km- I THEOLOGICAL SliMINARV.I |j Princeton, r%. 1 — || BX 5037 .B87 18A4 Butler, Joseph, 1692-1752 The works of the Right Reverend Father in God, I L Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2014 https://archive.org/details/worksofrightreve00butl_1 THE WORKS OF THE RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, JOSEPH Sutler, d.c.l. LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM. Ejus [Analogic] haec vis est, ut id quod dubium est ad aliquid simile, de quo non qusDiitur, referat ut incerta certis probet.— Quixtil. 1. i. c. 6. TO WHICH IS PREFIXED AN ACCOUNT OF THE CHARACTER AND WRITINGS OF THE AUTHOR, BY SAMUEL HALIFAX, D.D. LATE LORD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER 58 CANAL STREET, AND PITTSBURG, 58 MARKET STREET. 1845. THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION, NATURAL AND REVEALED TO THE CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE, TO WHICH ARE ADDED, TWO BRIEF DISSERTATIONS : L ON PERSONAL [DENTITY.— U. ON THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. BY JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM. Ejus [Analogiac] bsec vis est, ut id quod dubium «.st ad aliquid simile, de quo non queritur, referat ut incerta certis probet.— Q,uintil. 1. i. c G. WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE CHARACTER AND WRITINGS OF THE AUTHOR, BY SAMUEL HALIFAX, D.D. LATE LORD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER. NEW YORK: lUMiERT CARTER 58 CANAL STREET, AND PITTSBURG, 58 MARKET STREET. 1845. ADVERTISEMENT PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION. [f the reader should meet here with any thing which he tiad not before attended to, it will not be in the observa- tions upon the constitution and course of nature, these being all obvious ; but in the application of them : in which, though there is nothing but what appears to me of some real weight, and therefore of great importance ; yet he will observe several things, which will appear to him of very little, if he can think things to be of little importance, which are of any real weight at all, upon such a subject as religion. However, the proper force of the following Treatise lies in the whole general analogy considered together. It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted, by many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry ; but that it is, now at length, dis- covered to be fictitious. And accordingly they treat it, as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point among all people of discernment; and nothing remained, but to set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way of reprisals, for its having so long inter- rupted the pleasures of the world. On the contrary, thus much, at least, will be here found, not taken for granted, but proved, that any reasonable man, who will thoroughly consider the matter, maybe as much assured, as he is of his own being, that it is not, however, so clear a case, that there is nothing in it. There is, I think, strong evidence of its truth ; but it is certain no one can, upon principles of reason, be satisfied of the contrary. And the practical consequence to be drawn from this is not attended to by every one who is concerned in it. Hay, 1730. f CONTENTS. INTfiODUCTION • 48 PART I. OF NATURAL RELIGION. Chap. I. — Of a Future LIfo 57 Chap. II. — Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishments; and particularly of the latter ^ 63 Chap. III. — Of the Moral Government of God .... 83 Chap. IV. — Of a State of Probation, as implying Trial, Difficulties, and Danger 105 Chap. V. — Of a State of Probation, as intended for moral Disciplin and Improvement 112 Chap. VI. — Of the Opinion of Necessity, considered as influencing Practice . • . . , 134 Chap. VII. — Of the Government of God, considered as a Scheme or Constitution, imperfectly comprehended . • , . 148 Conclusion • • , • • • • • . 158 TART II. OF REVEALED RELIGION. Chap. I. — Of the Importance of Christianity , . , 165 Chap. II. — Of the supposed Presumption against a Revelation, consid- eied as miraculous ......*• 181 vi CONTENTS. Pag:. Chap. III. — Of our incapacity of judging, what were to be expected m a Revelation; and the Credibility, from Analogy, that it must contain Things appearing liable to Objections . . 187 Chap. IV. — Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme or Constitution, imperfectly comprehended . . . . . . 201 Chap. V. — Of the particular System of Christianity ; the Appointment of a Mediator, and the Redemption of the World by him . '208 Chap. VI. — Of the Want of Universality in Revelation: and of the supposed Deficiency in the Proof of it , , . . 225 Chap. VII. — Of the particular Evidence for Christianity , . 242 Chap. VIII. — Of the Objections which may be made against arguing from the Analogy of Nature to Religion , . . , 275 Conclusion • • • • 286 DissEETATioN I. — Of Pcrsonal Identity ' . , ^ ; 297 Dissertation II.— Of the Nature of Virtue • • • ^03 4 THE REVEREND DR THOMAS BALGUY, ARCHDEACON AND PREBENDARY OF WITTCHESTEH, &a Dear Sir, I TRUST you will excuse the liberty I have taken of prefixing your name to the following sheets; the latter part of which, I am confident, will not be thought undeserving of your approbation; and of the former part you will commend the intention at least, if not the execution. In vindicating the character of Bishop Butler from the aspersions thrown upon it since his death, I have but discharged a common duty of humanity, which survivors owe to those who have deserved well of man- kind by their lives or writings, when they are past the power of appearing in their own defence. And if what I have added, by way of opening the general design of the Works of this great Prelate, be of use in exciting the younger class of Students in our Universities to read, and so to read as to understand, the Two Volumes prepared and pablislied by the Author himself; I flatter myself I shall have done no inconsiderable service to Morality and Religion. Your time and studies have been long successfully devoted to the support of the same great cause: and in what you have lately given to the world, both as an Author and an Editor, you have largely con- tributed to the defence of our common Christianity, and of what was esteemed by One, who was perfectly com- petent to judge, its best Establishment, the Church of England. In the present publication I consider myself viii « as a fellow labourer with you in the same design, and tracing the path you have trod before, but at great distance, and with unequal paces. When, by His Majesty's goodness, I was raised to that station of eminence in the Church, to which you had been first named, and which, on account of the infirmity of your health, you had desired to decline ; it was honour enough for me on such an occasion to have been thought of next to you : and I know of no better rule by which to govern my conduct, so as not to discredit the Royal Hand which conferred on me so signal and unmerited a favour, than in cases of difficulty to put the question to myself. How you would probably have acted in the same situation. You see. Sir, I still look up to you, as I have been wont, both as my Superior and my Example. That I may long reap the benefit of your advice and friendship; and that such a measure of health and strength may be continued to you, as may enable you to pass the evening of your days with comfort, and enjoy the blessings of the life you . love ; is the cordial wish of. Dear Sir, Your very affectionate and faithful Servant, S. GLOUCESTER Dartmouth Street, Westminster 12Vi May, 1780 PREFACE BY THE EDITOR " When I consider how light a matter very often subjects the best established characters to the suspicions of posterity, posterity often as malignant to virtue as the age that saw it was envious of its glory ; and how ready a remote age is to catch at a low revived slander, which the times that brought it forth saw despised and forgotten almost in its birth ; I cannot but think it a matter that deserves atten- tion."— Letter to the Editor of the Letters on the Spirit of Patriotisnij &c., by Bishop Warborton. See his Works, vol. vii. p. 547. The Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of Durham was printed and pubhshed in the year 1751, by the learned Prelate whose name it bears ; and, together with the Sermons and Analogy of the same writer, both too well known to need a more particular description,, completes the collection of his Works. It has long been considered as a matter of curiosity, on account of its scarceness ; and it is equally curious on other ac- counts— its subject, and the calumny to which it gave occasion, of representing the Author as addicted to super- stition, as inclined to popery, and as dying in the com- munion of the Church of Rome. The improved edition of the Biographia Britannica, published under the care of Dr Kippis, having unavoidably brought this calumny again into notice, it may not be unseasonable to offer a few reflections in this place, by w^ay of obviating any impressions that may hence arise to the disadvantage of so great a character as that of the late Bishop Butler ; referring those who desire a more particular account of his hfe, to the third volume of the same entertaining work, printed in 1784, art. Butler (Joseph).* I. The principal design of the Bishop in his Charge is, to exhort his Clergy to "do their part towards reviv- ing a practical sense of religion amongst the people committed to their care and, as one way of eflecting this, to " instruct them in the Importance of External Religion,'' or tlie uscfiihicss of outward observances in promoting inward piety. Now, from the comnound * The account here alhuhd to is fubjoined to tliis Prt'face. PREFACE nature of man, consisting of two parts, the body and the mind, together with the influence which these are found to have on one another, it follows, that the rehgious re- gards of such a creature ought to be so framed, as to be in some way properly accommodated to both. A reli- gion which is purely spiritual, stripped of every thing that may affect the senses, and considered only as a divine philosophy of the mind, if it do not mount up into enthusiasm, as has frequently been the case, often sinks, after a few short fervours, into indifference : an abstracted invisible object, like that which natural religion offers, ceases to move or interest the heart ; and something further is wanting to bring it nearer, and render it more present to our view, than merely an intellectual contem- plation. On the other hand, when, in order to remedy this inconvenience, recourse is had to instituted forms and ritual injunctions, there is always danger lest men be tempted to rest entirely on these, and persuade themselves that a painful attention to such observances will atone for the want of genuine piety and virtue. Yet surely there is a w^ay of steering safely between these two extremes ; of so consulting both the parts of our constitution, that the body and the mind may concur in rendering our religious services acceptable to God, and at the same time useful to ourselves. And what way can this be, but precisely that which is recommend- ed in the Charge ; such a cultivation of outward as well as inward religion, that from both may result, what is the point chiefly to be laboured, and at all events to be secured, a correspondent temper and behaviour ; or, in other words, such an application of the forms of godli- ness, as may be subservient in promoting the power and spirit of it.^ No man, who believes the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, and understands what he believes, but must know, that external religion is as much enjoined, and constitutes as real a part of revelation, as that which is internal. The many ceremonies in use among the Jews, in consequence of a divine command ; the baptism of water, as an emblem of moral purity; the eating and drinking of bread and wine, as symbols and representations of the body and lilood of Christ, required BY THE EDITOR* xi of Christians, are proofs of this. On comparing these two parts of religion together, one, it is immediately seen, is of much greater importance than the other ; and, whenever they happen to interfere, is always to be pre- ferred : but does it follow from hence, that therefore that other is of little or no importance, and, in cases where there is no competition, may entirely be neglected ? Or rather is not the legitimate conclusion directly the re- verse, that nothing is to be looked upon as of little im- portance, which is of any use at all in preserving upon our minds a sense of the Divine authority, which recalls to our remembrance the obligations we are under, and helps to keep us, as the Scripture expresses it, " in the fear of the Lord all the day long?"* If, to adopt the instance mentioned in the Charge, the sight of a church should remind a man of some sentiment of piety ; if, from the view of a material building dedicated to the service of God, he should be led to regard himself, his own body, as a living "temple of the Holy Ghost,"! and therefore no more than the other to be profaned or dese- crated by any thing that defileth or is impure ; could it be truly said of such a one, that he was superstitious, or mistook the means of religion for the end? If, to use another, and what has been thought a more obnoxious instance, taken from the Bishop's practice, a cross, erect- ed in a place of public worship, t should cause us to re- flect on Him who died on a cross for our salvation, and on the necessity of our " own dying to sin," § and of '^crucifying the flesh with its affection and lusts ;"ll would any worse consequences follow from such sentiments so excited, tlian if the same sentiments had been excited by the view of a picture, of the crucifixion suppose, such as is commonly placed, and with this very design, in foreign churches, and indeed in many of our own ? Both the instanc(^s here adduced, it is very possible, may be * Prov. xxiii. 17. +1 Cor. vi. 15). X DrTliithT, Aviicn liMiop ot Bristol, put up a cross, ;i jiliiin [nrrv of iu:irl)I«' iiilnid, in llie oli:ip»'l of his rpiscoj»;il house, 'riiis, which was inU'inh-d by tin- l»laiiH'U'S9 Prelate int rely as a si Popish h>rn\s and ceremonies, and lind no pjreat (li^like to Popery itself. And, on accounl of I he olh iice it occasioueil, botll Rt tlie time and since, it were to be wibhul, ui prudence, it luid not hern done. § Rom. vi. 11. II (.al. V. L^l. xii PREFACE far from being approved, even by those who are under the most sincere convictions of the importance of true rehgion : and it is easy to conceive how open to scorn and censure they must be from others, who think they have a talent for ridicule, and have accustomed them- selves to regard all pretensions to piety as hypocritical or superstitious. But Wisdom is justified of her chil- dren."* Religion is what it is, "whether men will hear, or whether they will forbear ;"t and whatever in the smallest degree promotes its interests, and assists us in performing its commands, whether that assistance be derived from the medium of the body or the mind, ought to be esteemed of great weight, and deserving of our most serious attention. However, be the danger of superstition what it may, no one was more sensible of that danger, or more in earnest in maintaining, that external acts of themselves are nothing, and that moral holiness, as distinguished from bodily observances of every kind, is that which constitutes the essence of religion, than Bishop Butler. Not only the Charge itself, the whole intention of which is plainly nothing more than to enforce the necessity of practical religion, the reality as well as form, is a de- monstration of this, but many passages besides to the same purpose, selected from his other writings. Take the two following as specimens. In his Analogy he ob- serves thus : " Though mankind have, in all ages, been greatly prone to place their religion in peculiar positive rites, by way of equivalent for obedience to moral pre- cepts; yet, without making any comparison at all be- tween them, and consequently without determining which is to have the preference, the nature of the thing abundantly shows all notions of that kind to be utterly subversive of true religion : as they are, moreover, con- trary to the whole tenor of Scripture ; and likewise to the most express particular declarations of it, that no- thing can render us accepted of God, without moral virtue."! And to the same purpose in his Sermon, preached before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, in February, 1738-9. " Indeed, amongst crea- • Malt. xi. 19. + Eztk. ii. 5 % -Analogy, Part U. Chap. i. BY THE EDITOR. xiii tures naturally formed for religion, yet so much under the power of imagination as men are, superstition is an evil, which can never be out of sight. But even against this, true religion is a great security, and the only one. True religion takes up that place in the mind, which superstition would usurp, and so leaves little room for it; and likewise lays us under the strongest obligations to oppose it. On the contrary, the danger of supersti- tion cannot but be increased by the prevalence of irre- ligion ; and, by its general prevalence, the evil will be unavoidable. For the common people, wanting a reli- gion, will of course take up with almost any superstition which is thrown in their way: and in process of time, amidst the infinite vicissitudes of the political world, the leaders of parties will certainly be able to serve them- selves of that superstition, whatever it be, which is get- ting ground; and will not fail to carry it to the utmost length their occasions require. The general nature of the thing shows this; and history and fact confirm it. It is therefore wonderful, those people who seem to think there is but one evil in life, that of superstition, should not see that atheism and profaneness must be the introduction of it."* He who can think and write in such a manner, can never be said to mistake the nature of real religion: and he, who, after such proofs to the contrary, can persist in asserting of so discreet and learned a person, tliat he was addicted to superstition, must himself be much a stranger both to truth and charity. And here it may be worth our while to observe, that the same excellent Prelate, who bv one set of men was suspected of superstition, on account of his Charge, has by another been represented as leaning to the opposite extreme of enthusiasm, on account of liis two discourses On the Love of God. But both opinions are equally without foundation. He was neither superstitious, nor an enthusiast: his mind was much too strong, and his habits of thinking and reasoning much too strict and se- vere, to suffer him to descend to the weaknesses of either character. His piety was at once fervent and rational. ♦ Ser. xvi. xiv PREFACE When impressed with a generous concern for the de- chning cause of rehgion, he laboured to revive its dying interests ; nothing he judged would be more effectual to that end, among creatures so much engaged with bodily- things, and so apt to be affected with whatever strongly solicits the senses, as men are, than a religion of such a frame as should in its exercise require the joint exertions of the body and the mind. On the other hand, when penetrated with the dignity and importance of "the first and great commandment,"* love to God, he set himself to inquire, what those movements of the heart are, which are due to Him, the Author and Cause of all things ; he found, in the coolest way of consideration, that God is the natural object of the same affections of gratitude, reverence, fear, desire of approbation, trust, and dependence, the same affections in kind^ though doubtless in a very disproportionate degree^ which any one would feel from contemplating a perfect character in a creature, in which goodness, with wisdom and power, are supposed to be the predominant qualities, with the further circumstance, that this creature was also his governor and friend. This subject is manifestly a real one ; there is nothing in it fanciful or unreason- able : this way of being affected towards God is piety, in the strictest sense : this is rehgion, considered as a habit of mind ; a religion, suited to the nature and condition, of man.i" II. From superstition to Popery ^ the transition is easy: no wonder then, that, in the progress of detraction, the simple imputation of the former of these, with which the attack on the character of our Author was opened, should be followed by the more aggravated imputation of the latter. Nothing, I think, can fairly be gathered in support of such a suggestion from the Charge, in which Popery is barely mentioned, and occasionally *Matt. xxii. 38. f Many of the spntiments, in tliese Two Discourses of Bishop Butler, containing^ the sovereign good of man ; the in)[)ossihilily of procuring it in the present life ; the i.nsatisfactoriness of rartiiiy enjoynients ; togeth* r with the somewhat beyond and nlwve them all, which once attained, there will rest nothing further to be wished or hoped ; and which is then only to be expected, when we shall have put ort' this niorUil Ijody, and our union with God shall be coiDplete ; occur in Hooker'* Eccle- siattical Polity. Book I. 5. 11. BY THE EDITOR. XV only, and in a sentence or two ; yet even there, it should be remarked, the Bishop takes care to describe the pe- cuhar observances required by it, "some as in them- selves wrong and superstitious, and others of them as being made subservient to the purposes of superstition." With respect to his other writings, any one at all con- versant with them needs not to be told, that the matters treated of both in his Sermons and his Analogy did none of them directly lead him to consider, and much less to combat, the opinions, whether relating to faith or wor- ship, which are peculiar to the Church of Rome: it might therefore have happened, yet without any just conclusion arising from thence, of being himself inclined to favour those opinions, that he had never mentioned, so much as incidentally, the subject of Popery at ali. But fortunately for the reputation of the Bishop, and to the eternal disgrace of his calumniators, even this poor resource is wanting to support their malevolence. In his Sermon at St Bride's before the Lord Mayor in 1740, after having said that *'our laws and whole consti- tution go more upon supposition of an equality amongst mankind, than the constitution and laws of other coun- tries;" he goes on to observe, that "this plainly requires, that more particular regard should be had to the educa- tion of the lower people here, than in places where they are born slaves of power, and to be made slaves of su- perstition* meaning evidently in this place, by the gen- eral term superstition, the particuhir c rrors of the Ro- manists. This is something: but we have a still plainer indication what his sentiments concerning Popery really were, from another of his additional Sermons, [ mean that before the House of Lords on June the 11th, 1747, the anniversary of his late Majesty's accession. The passage alluded to is as follows; and my readers will not be displeased that I give it them at length. " The value of our lelii^ious Establishment ought to be very much heightened in our esteem, by considering what it is a security from; I moan that great corruption of Christianity, Poperv, which is ever hard at work to bring lis again under its yoke, ^^'hoeve^ ^^ ill (^^-^^(M- the Po- * Scnii. xvii. xvi PREFACE pish claims, to the disposal of the whole earth, as of divine right, to dispense with the most sacred engage- ments, the claims to supreme absolute authority in reli- gion; in short, the general claims which the Canonists express by the words, plenitude of power — whoever, I say, will consider Popery as it is professed at Rome, may see, that it is manifest, open usurpation of all hu- man and divine authority. But even in those Roman Catholic countries where these monstrous claims are not admitted, and the civil power does, in many respects, restrain the papal ; yet persecution is professed, as it is absolutely enjoined by what is acknowledged to be their highest authority, a general council, so called, with the Pope at the head of it ; and is practised in all of them, I think, without exception, where it can be done safely. Thus they go on to substitute force instead of argument ; and external profession made by force, instead of rea- sonable conviction. And thus corruptions of the gros- sest sort have been in vogue, for many generations, in many parts of Christendom ; and are so still, even where Popery obtains in its least absurd form : and their anti- quity and wide extent are insisted upon as proofs of their truth ; a kind of proof, which at best can only be presumptive, but which loses all its little weight, in pro- portion as the long and large prevalence of such cor- ruptions have been obtained by force."* In another part of the same Sermon, where he is again speaking of our ecclesiastical constitution, he reminds his audience that it is to be valued, not because it leaves us at liberty to have as little religion as we please, without being accountable to human judicatories ; but because it exhibits to our view, and enforces upon our con- sciences, genuine Christianity, free from the supersti- tions with which it is defiled in other countries ; which superstitions, he observes, " naturally tend to abate its force." The date of this Sermon should here be attend- ed to. It was preached in June, 1747; that is, four years before the delivery and publication of the Charge, which was in the year 1751 ; and exactly five years before the Author died, which was in June, 1752. We BY THE EDITOR. xvii have then, in the passages now laid before the reader, a clear and unequivocal proof, brought down to within a few years of Bishop Butler's death, that Popery was held by him in the utmost abhorrence, and that he re- garded it in no other light, than as the great corruption' of Christianity, ^nddimanif est, open usurpation of all hitman and divine authority. The argument is decisive ; nor will any thing be of force to invalidate it, unless from some after-ad during the short remainder of the Bishop's life, besides that of delivering and printing his Charge (which, after what I have said here, and in the Notes added to this Preface and to the Charge I must have leave to consider as affording no evidence at all of his inclination to Papistical doctrines Dr ceremonies), the contrary shall incontrovertibly appear. III. One such after-act, however, has been alleged, which would effectually demolish all that we have urged in behalf of our Prelate, were it true, as is pretended, that he died in the communion of the Church of Home. Had a story of this sort been invented and propagated by Papists, the wonder might have been less : A Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur Atridce. But to the reproach of Protestantism, the fabrication of this calumny, for such we shall find it, originated from among ourselves. It is pretty remarkable, that a cir- cumstance so extraordinary should never have been di- vulged till the year 1767, fifteen years after the Bishop's decease. At that time Dr Thomas Seeker was Arch- bishop of Canterbury ; who of all others was the most likely to know the truth or falsehood of the fact asserted, having been educated with our Author in his early youth, and having lived in a constant habit of intimacy with him to the very time of his death. The good Arch- bishop was not silent on tliis occasion : with a virtuous mdignation he stood forth to protect the posthumous cha- racter of his friend ; and in a pubHc newspaper, under the signature of MUopscudes, called upon his accuser to sup- port what he had advanced, by whatever proofs he could. No proof, however, nor any thing like a proof, appeared in reply ; and every man of sense and candour at that n xviii PREFACE time was perfectly convinced the assertion was entirely groundless.* Asa further confirmation of the rectitude * When the first edition of this Preface was publisiied, I had in vaii*. endeavoured to procure a sifflit of tiie papers, in which Bishop Butler was accused of Jiaviiipiscopal Charge has squinted very much towards that superstition." Here we find tlie accusa- tion not only repeated, but supported by reasons, such as they are, of which it seemed' necessary that some notice should be taken : nor did the Archbishop conceive it un- becoming his own dignity to stand up on this occasion, as the vindicator of innocence against the calumniator of the helpless dead. Accordingly, in a second letter in the same newspaper of May 23, and subscribed Misopstudes as before ; after reciting from Bishop Butler's Sermon before the Lords the very passage here printed in tiie Preface, and observing, tliat " there are, in the same Sermon, declarations as strong- as can be made against temporal punishments for heresy, schism, or even for idola- try his Grace expresses liimself thus : " Now he (Bishop Butler) was universally esteemed throughout his life, a man of strict piety and honesty, as well as uncommon abilities. He gave all the proofs, public and jirivate, which his station led him to- give, and they were decisive and daily, of his continuing to the last a sincere member of the Church of England. Nor had ever any of his acquaintance, or most intimate friends, nor have they to this day, tiie least doubt of it." As to putting up a cross in- his chapel, the Archbishop frankly owns, that for himself he wishes he had not ; and thinks that in ro doing the Bishop did amiss. But then he asks, " Can that be oppos- ed, as any proof of Popery, to all the evidence on the other side ; or even to the single evidence of the above-mentioned Seniion ? Most of our churches have crosse*- upon them : are they therefore Popish churches? The Lutherans have more than crosses in theirs: are the Lutheraiis therefore Papists?" And as to the Charge, na Papist, his Grace remarks, would have spoken as Bishop Buthr there does, of the observances peculiar to Roman Catholics, some of which he expres.sly censures bs wrong and superstitioiis, and others, as made snb-ervient to the pur; oses of supersti- tion, and, on these accounts, abolished at tlie Refoniialion. After the publication of this letter Phileleutheros replied in a short defence »)f his own conduct, but witiiout prodiicing any thing n« \v in confirmation of what he had advanced. And here the- controversy, so far as tlie two i>rini ipals wt re concerneil, seems to have t nded. But tlie dispute was not sufTrred to die away quite so soon. Tor in the si me year,, and in the same newspaper of July another letter appeared ; in which the auiiior not only contended that the cn»ss in the Episcopal chapel at Bristol, r.nd the Charge to the Clergy of Durham in 1751. amount to full proof of a strong nttuchnu nt to the idolatroiLS communion of the Church of Rome, but, with the reader's leave, he would lain account for the Bishop's "tendency this wtiy. ' And this he □tlemptrd to do, Iroin the natural melancholy and gloominess of Dr Butler's disjxisition ; from his prt»it fondness for the lives of Romish saints, and Uieir books of mystic piety ; from Lis drawing his notions of teachiii^ nien religioB, uU from the New Testameut, bu* • BY THE EDITOR. of this judgment, it may not be amiss to mention, there is yet in existence a strong presumptive argument at least in its favour, drawn from the testimony of those who at- tended our Author in the sickness of which he died. The last days of this excellent Prelate were passed at Bath ; Dr Xathanael Forster, his chaplain, being con- tinually with him ; and for one day, and at the very end of his illness, Dr Martin Benson also, the then Bishop of Gloucester, who shortened his own life in his pious haste to visit his dying friend. Both these persons con- stantly wrote letters to Dr Seeker, then Bishop of Ox- ford, containing accounts of Bishop Butler's declining health, and of the symptoms and progress of his disorder, which, as was conjectured, soon terminated in his death. from philosophical and political opinions of his ovrn ; and above all, from his transi- tion from a stx.ct Dissciiu-r amongst the Presbvterians to a rigid Churdimrm, and his sudden and unexpected elevation to great wealth and dignity in the Church.'' The attack, tlius renewt e, " tliat tiie natural melancholy of tlie Bishop's temper would ratlier have fixed him amono^st his first friends, than prumptt-d hira to the cliange he made : that he read books of all sorts, as well as books of mystic pifty, and knew how to pidt the good tliat was in them out of the ljud: tliat his opinions were exposed with- out reserve in his Analogy and his Sermons, and if the docirine of eitJier be Popish or unscriptural, ihe learned world liath mistaken strangely in admiring botii : that, instead of \><'n\s. a strict Dlss« nter, he never was a communicant in any I) iisenting as- sembly ; on the contrary, that he went occasionally, from his early years, to Uie es- tablished worship, and became a coiast;cal mat- Jters, liad none beyond tlu ni ; a larger income Uian mirst of tliem he had ; but tliis he emuloyed, not, as was insiniiated, in augmenting the pomp of worship in his ca- thedral, where indeed it is no greater Jmn in otlier», bat for the purposes of charily, and in the repairing of his hous^-s." After these remarks. Uie leUer closes wrtli tlie following words: " L '^hhi tlie whole, few accusatitins. so entirely groundless, liava be«-n so pertuiaciously, I am unwilling to say maiicou^ly, curried on, as Uie present: and surely it is high time for the jiuUiors and abettors of it, in mere conunuii prudeiK*, to show some reganl, if not to truUi, at least to sl ame." It only remains to be nu ntionetl. Uiat Uie al>ove letters of Archbishop .Se< ker had iucli an effect on a writer, who signed liimself in Uie St James > ( hn»uicle of Augml ib^ A Dissenting Mmistfr, that h»' declar»-d it as his op iiion. Uial " Uie autlior iice, and in honour to retract Uieir diam, unless they ouuld establish it oa much belter groiuuis Uian bad hiUierto appcttrea:'* and he ex XX PREFACE These letters, which are still preserved in the Lambeth library,* I have read ; and not the slenderest argument can be collected from them, in justification of the ridiculous slander we are here considering. If at that awful season the Bishop was not known to have ex- pressed any opinion tending to show his dislike to Popery, neither was he known to have said any thing, that could at all be construed in approbation of it ; and the natural presumption is that whatever sentiments he had formerly entertained concerning that corrupt system of religion, he continued to entertain them to the last. The truth is, neither the word nor the idea of Popery seems once to have occurred either to the Bishop him- self, or to those who watched his parting moments : their thoughts were otherwise engaged. His disorder had reduced him to such debility, as to render him in- capable of speaking much or long on any subject : the few bright intervals that occurred were passed in a state of the utmost tranquillity and composure ; and in that composure he expired. " Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace."! " Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his !"t Out of pure respect for the virtues of a man, whom I pressed his " hopes, that it would be understood that the Dissenters in general had no hand in the accusation, and that it had only been the act of two or three mistaken men." Another person also, " a foreigner by birth," as he says of himself, who had been long an admirer of Bishop }3utler, and had perused with great attention all that liad been written on both sides in the present controversy, confosses lie had been wonderfully pleased with observing, with what candour and temper, as well as clearness and solidity, he was vindicated from the aspersions laid against him." All the adversaries of our Prelate, however, had not the virtue or sense to be thus con- vinced ; some of whom still continued, under the signatures of Old Martin, Latimer^ jln Impartial Protettant, Paiilinus, Misonothos, to repeat their confuted talselioods in the puolic prints ; as if the curse of calumniators had fallen upon them, and tlieir memory, by being long a traitor to truth, had tiiken at last a severe revenj^e, and compelled tJjcm to credit their own lie. The first of these gentlemen, Old Martin ^ who dates from Newcastle, May 29, from the rancour and malignity with which his letter abounds, and from the particular virulence he discovers towards the clmrncters of Bishop Butler and his defender, I conjecture to be no other than the very person who had already figured in this dispute,' so early as the year 1752; of whose work, entitled, " A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance of Kxternal Relif>i(m," the reader will find some account in the notes subjoined to the Bishop's Cliarge in the volume of Sermons. * The letters, with a sight of which I was indulged by the favour of our present most worthy Metropolitan, are all, as I remember, wrapped together imder one cover; on the back of which is written, in Archbishop Seeker's own liand, the fol- lowing words, or words to this effect :**Presuraptive Arguments that Bishop Butler did cot die a Pbpist." + Paalm xxxvii. 37. % Numb, xxiii. 10, BY THE EDITOR. xxi had never the happiness of knowing, or even of seeing, but from whose writings I have received the greatest benefit and illumination, and which I have reason to be thankful to Providence for having early thrown in my w^ay, I have adventured, in what I have now offered to the public, to step forth in his defence, and to vindicate his honest fame from the attacks of those, who, with the vain hope of bringing down superior characters to their own level, are for ever at work in detracting from their just praise. For the literary reputation of Bishop Butler, it stands too high in the opinion of the world, to incur the danger of any diminution : but this in truth is the least of his excellences. He was more than a good writer, he was a good man ; and what is an addition even to this eulogy, he was a sincere Christian. His whole study was directed to the knowledge and practice of sound morality and true rehgion : these he adorned by his life, and has recommended to future ages in his writings ; in which, if my judgment be of any avail, he has done essential service to both, as much, perhaps, as any single person, since the extraordinary gifts of " the word of wisdom and the word of knowledge "* have been withdrawn. In what follows I propose to give a short account of the Bishop's moral and religious systems, as these are collected from his Works. I. His way of treating the subject of morals is to be gathered from the volume of his Sermons, and particu- larly from the three first, and from the preface to that volume. " There is," as our Author with singular sagacity has observccf, " a much more exact correspondence bet ween the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take no- tice of."f The inward frame of man answers to his out- ward condition ; the several propensities, passions, and affections, im])lanted in our hearts by the Author of na- ture, arc in a peculiar manner adapted to tlie circum- stances of life in whicli he hath ])laced us. This gene- ral observation, properly pursued, leads to several im- • 1 Cor. 8. f Serin, vi. xxii PREFACE TDortant conclusions. The original internal constitution of man, compared with his external condition, enables us to discern what course of action and behaviour that constitution leads to, what is our duty respecting that condition, and furnishes us besides with the most power- ful arguments to the practice of it. What the inward frame and constitution of man is, is a question of fact ; to be determined, as other facts are, from experience, from our internal feelings and exter- nal senses, and from the testimony of others. Whether human nature, and the circumstances in which it is plac- ed, might not have been ordered otherwise, is foreign to our inquiry, and none of our concern : our province is, taking both of these as they are, and viewing the con- nexion between them, from that connexion to discover if we can, what course of action is fitted to that nature and those circumstances. From contemplating the bod- ily senses, and the organs or instruments adapted to them, we learn that the eye was given to see with, the ear to hear with. In like manner, from considering our inward perceptions and the final causes of them, we col- lect that the feeling of shame, for instance, was given to prevent the doing of things shameful ; compassion, to carry us to relieve others in distress; anger, to resist sudden violence offered to ourselves. If, continuing our inquiries in this way, it should at length appear, that the nature, the whole nature, of man leads him to and is fit- ted for that particular course of behaviour which we usu- ally distinguish by the name of virtue, we are authoriz- ed to conclude, that virtue is the law we are born under, that it was so intended by the Author of our being ; and we are bound by the most intimate of all obligations, a regard to our own highest interest and happiness, to conform to it in all situations and events. Human nature is not simple and uniform, but made up of several parts ; and we can have no just idea of it as a system or constitution, unless we take into our view the respects and relations wliich these parts have to each other. As the body is not one member, but many ; so our inward structure consists of various instincts, appe- tites, and propeusions. Thus far there is no difference BY THE EDITOR. XXiU between human creatures and brutes. But besides these common passions and affections, there is another princi- ple, pecuhar to mankind, that of conscience, moral sense, reflection, call it what you please, by which they are en- abled to review their whole conduct, to approve of some actions in themselves, and to disapprove of others. That this principle will of course have 50/n^ influence on our behaviour, at least at times, will hardly be disputed : but the particular influence which it ought to have, the pre- cise degree of power in the regulating of our internal frame that is assigned it by Him who placed it there, is a point of the utmost consequence in itself, and on the deter- mination of which the very hinge of our Author's Moral System turns. If the faculty here spoken of be, indeed, what it is asserted to be, in nature and kind superior to every other passion and affection ; if it be given, not merely that it may exert its force occasionally, or as our present humour or fancy may dispo «e us, but that it may at all times exercise an uncontrollable authority and go- vernment over all the rest ; it will then follow, that, in or- der to complete the idea of human nature, as a system, we must not only take in each particular bias, propen- sion, instinct, which are seen to belong to it, but we must add besides the principle of conscience, together with the subjection that is due to it from all the other appetites and passions: just as the idea of a civil consti- tution is formed, not barely from enumerating the seve- ral members and ranks of which it is com])osed, but from these considered as acting in various degrees of subordination to each other, and all under the direction of the same supreme authority, whether that authority be vested in one person or more. The view here given of the internal constitution of m.an, and of the supremacy of conscience, agreeably to the conceptions of Bishop Butler, enables us to comprehend the force of that expression, common to him and the an- cient moralists, that virtue consists in foJlowimj nature. The meaning cannot be, that it consists in acting agree- ably to that propensity of oui' nature which happens to be the str(iiig(\^t; or which ])!()]:('ls us towards certain objects, without \\\\\ vci-wA \r t!ie methods by which xxiv PREFACE tliey are to be obtained : but the meaning must be, ttiat virtue consists in the due regulation and subjection of all the other appetites and affections to the superior faculty of conscience; from a conformity to which alone our ac-- tions are properly natural, or correspondent to the na- ture, to the whole nature, of such an agent as man. From hence too it appears, that the author of our frame is by no means indifferent to virtue and vice, or has left us at liberty to act at random, as humour or appetite may prompt us; but that every man has the rule of right within him ; a rule attended in the very notion of it with authority, and such as has the force of a direction and a command from Him who made us what we are, what, course of behaviour is suited to our nature, and which he expects that we should follow. This moral faculty implies also a presentiment and apprehension, that the judgment which it passes on our actions, considered as of good or ill desert, will hereafter be confirmed by the unerring judgment of God; when virtue and happiness, , vice and misery, whose ideas are now so closely connect- - ed, shall be indissolubly united, and the divine govern- - ment be found to correspond in the most exact propor-- tion to the nature he has given us. Lastly, this just- prerogative or supremacy of conscience it is, which Mr Pope has described in his Universal Prayer j though perhaps he may have expressed it rather too strongly,, where he says, "What conscience dictates to be done, Or \vari)5 me not to do, Ttiis teacii me more than hell to shun, That more than heaven pursue." The reader will observe, that this way of treating the subject of morals, by an appeal to facts, does not at all interfere with that other way, adopted by Dr Samuel Clarke and others, which begins with inquiring into the relations and fitnesses of things, but rather illustrates and. confirms it. That there are essential differences in the qualities of human actions, established by nature, and that this natural difference of things, prior to and inde- pendent of all will, creates a mxiuvA fitness in the agent to act agreeably to it, seems as little to be denied, as that there is the moral difference before explained, from BY THE EDITOR. XXV which we approve and feel a pleasure in what is right, and conceive a distaste to what is wrong. Still, how- ever, when we are endeavouring to establish either this moral or that natural difference, it ought never to be forgotten, or rather it will require to be distinctly shown, that both of these, when traced up to their source, sup- pose an intelligent Author of nature and moral Ruler of the world ; who originally appointed these differences, and by such an appointment has signified his will that we should conform to them, as the only effectual method of securing our happiness on the whole under his govern- ment.* And of this consideration our Prelate himself was not unmindful ; as may be collected from many ex- pressions in different parts of his writings, and particu- larly from the following passages in his eleventh Ser- mon. " It may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of virtue and /eligion, that our ideas of happi- ness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to us ; that they will, nay if you please,, they ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty, nrd harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence be- tween them." And again, " Though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good, as such ; yet, when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not contrarv to it."t Besides the general system of morality opened above, our Author in his volume of Sermons has stated with ac- curacy the difference between self-love and benevolence ; * " Far 1)P it from mo," says the rxrrllrtit Dr T. Bp'R^J (Discourse ix.) to dis- pute the nalily of a moral principle in the Intnian h»art. 1 fet( its existence: I rlearly ilisccrn its use and importance. Itiitiji no r( sp«'Ci is it mure important, than »s it siip£j<'sts the i(h a of a moral (I nvernor. ^l.vt this idea be once etTacrd. and the principle of conscience will MK)n he foinid wt-ak ami inetrrctual. Its influence on men s con«luct has, indeed, hern too vnnU und rvalurd by some philoNophiral in- «iuin-rs. Hut l)e that influence, while it la^ts, more or less, it is not a sfraili/ inul jtermanent principle of ncii»)n. I'nhappiiy we always liave it in our pow» r to lay it aslerp. — Xfflrrf alone will snppn-ss and stifle it, and hriiii: it ainuist into a slate ot Htupr fact inn. N()r can any thinir. less than the terrors of relipion. nwak«-n our minds fron> this dangerous and deadly sleep. It can n« v«T be a main r t)t ind th nnce to 4 thtnktng man, whether he is to be happy or misend)le beyoml Uie grave." + Serm. xl. xxvi PREFACE in opposition to those who, on the one hand, make the whole of virtue to consist in benevolence,* and to those who, on the other, assert that every particular affection and action is resolvable into self-love. In combating these opinions, he has shown, I think unanswerably, that there are the same kind of indications in human nature, that we were made to promote the happiness of others, as that we were made to promote our own : that it is no just objection to this, that we have dispositions to do evil to others as well as good ; for we have also dispositions to do evil as well as good to ourselves, to our own most important interests even in this life, for the sake of gratifying a present passion : that the thing to be lamented is, not that men have too great a regard to their own real good, but that they have not enough : that benevolence is not more at variance with or un- friendly to self-love, than any other particular affection is : and that by consulting the happiness of others a man is so far from lessening his own, that the very en- deavour to do so, though he should fail in the accom- plishment, is a source of the highest satisfaction and peace of mind.t He has also, in passing, animadverted on the philosopher of Malmsbury, who, in his book "Of Human Nature," has advanced, as discoveries in moral science, that benevolence is only the love of power, and compassion the fear of future calamity to ourselves. And this our Author has done, not so much with the design of exposing the false reasoning of Mr Hobbes, but because on so perverse an account of human nature he has rais- ed a system, subversive of all justice and honesty, f II. The rehgious system of Bishop Butler is chiefly to be collected from the treatise, entitled, " The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." i "All things are double one against another, and God hath made nothing impcrfect."§ On this single observa-, tion of the son of Sirach, the whole fabric of our Prelate's defence of religion, in his Analogy, is raised. Instead * See the second Dissertation " On the Nature of Virtue," at the end of the Analojry. f See Senn. i. and xi. and the preface to the volume of Scmions. X See the Notes to Serui. i. and v. ^ Eccles. xlii. 24. BY THE EDITOR. XXVii of indulging in idle speculations, how the world might possibly have been better than it is; or, forgetful of the difference between hypothesis and fact, attempting to ex- plain the divine economy with respect to intelligent crea- tures, from preconceived notions of his own; he first in- quires what the constitution of nature, as made known to us in the way of experiment, actually is ; and from this, now seen and acknowledged, he endeavours to form a judgment of that larger constitution, which religion dis- covers to us. If the dispensation of Providence we are now under, considered as inhabitants of this world, and having a temporal interest to secure in it, be found, on examination, to be analogous to, and of a piece with, that further dispensation, which relates to us as designed for another world, in which we have an eternal interest, depending on our behaviour here ; if both may be traced up to the same general laws, and appear to be carried on according to the same plan of administration ; the fair presumption is, that both proceed from one and the samG Author. And if the principal parts objected to in this latter dispensation be similar to and of the same kind with what we certainly experience under the former; the objections, being clearly inconclusive in one case, be- cause contradicted by plain fact, must, in all reason, be a-llowed to be inconclusive also in the other. This way of arguing from what is acknowledged to •what is disputed, from things known to other things that resemble them, from that part of the divine establish- ment which is exposed to our view to that more impor- tant one which lies beyond it, is on all hands confessed to be just. By this method Sir Isaac Newton has un- folded the system of nature; by the same method Bishop Butler has explained the system of grace; and thus, to use the words of a writer, whom T quote with pleasure, has formed and concluded a ha])])y alliance between faith and philosophy."* And although the argument from analogy be allowed to be imperfect, and by no means sufhcient to solve all difficulties respecting the government of God, and the designs of his Providence with regard to mankind (a * Mr Mainwaring*s Diisrrtation, j >rf fixrrance of man, is a favouriu- .li.< ;riiit' with Ui.shoi. Huil, r. It (K-curs in the jHCMul Fart of lJu- Analogy ; it n.ak. > tlu- Mil.j. ri of hi. F.fu r.uh S, n„o,. ; aiKi we nm t wah it i.pun in his Cliargo. \Vh, tlu r ^oaivuiu^^ it Ik- nut carrit d to a length which is exct^Sbive, may miniii of »!nuht. X I'urt 1. chap. vii. xxxii PREFACE The importance of Christianity appears in two re- spects. First, in its being a republication of Natural Re- ligion, in its native simplicity, with authority, and with circumstances of advantage ; ascertaining in many in- stances of moment, what before was only probable, and particularly confirming the doctrine of a future state of rewards and punishments.* Secondly, as revealing a new dispensation of Providence, originating from the pure love and mercy of God, and conducted by the me- diation of his Son, and the guidance of his Spirit for the recovery and salvation of mankind, represented In a state of apostasy and ruin. This account of Christianity being admitted to be just, and the distinct offices of these three divine Persons being once discovered to us, we are as much obliged in point of duty to acknowledge the relations we stand in to the Son and Holy Ghost, as our Mediator and Sanctifier, as we are obliged in point oi duty to acknowledge the relation we stand in to God the Father; although the two former of these relations be learnt from Revelation only, and in the last we are in- structed by the hght of nature; the obhgation in either case arising from the offices themselves, and not at all depending on the manner in which they are made known to us.t The presumptions against Revelation in general are, that it is not discoverable by reason, that it is unlike to what is so discovered, and that it was introduced and supported by miracles. But in a scheme so large as * Admirable to this purpose are the words of Dr T. Balguy, in the Ninth of his Discourses already referred to, p. xxv. "The doctrine of a life to come, some per- sons will say, is a doctrine of natural religion ; and can never therefore be properly alleged to show the importance of revelation. Tliey judge perhaps from the frame of the world, that the present system is imperfect ; thry see designs in it, not yet completed ; and tlu y think they have grounilN tor ♦ xpecting anotlier slate, in which these (hsigub shall he farther canird on, and hron^ht to a conclusion, worthy of in finite wisdom. I am not concerned to ilispute justness of this reasoning ; nor do I wish to dispute it. ]3iil how far will it reach.? W ill it lead us to the Christian d>)Ctrine of a judgment to come? AV'ill it give us the prospect of an eternity of hap- piness Nothing of all this. It shows us only, tliat death is not tiu- i-nd of our be- ing ; that we are likely (o i)ass hereafu r into oUu r systems, more favourable tiian the present to the great ends of (iod's providence, tlie i>;>/we and t\\v happittess of his in- telligent creatures. But lulo irhat syst« nis we are to be removed ; what new scenes are to be presented to us, either of pleasure or pain ; what new parts we shall have to act, and to what trials and t«Mnplations we )uay yet l)e exposed ; on all these sub- jects we know just nothing. That our happiness for ever depends on our conduct /iere, in a most important proposition. whicJi \\v learn o?tly(rom revelation," + Tart 11. chap. i. BY THE EDITOR. xxxiii that of the universe, unbounded in extent and everlast- ing in duration, there must of necessity be numberless orcumstances which are beyond the reach of our faculties to discern, and which can only be known by divine illu- mination. And both in the natural and moral govern- ment of the world, under which we live, we find many things unlike one to another, and therefore ought not to wonder if the same unlikeness obtain between things visible and invisible ; although it be far from true, that revealed rehgion is entirely unlike the constitution of nature, as analogy may teach us. Nor is there any thing incredible in Revelation, considered as miraculous ; whe- ther miracles be supposed to have been performed at the beginning of the world, or after a course of nature has been established. Not at the beginning of the world; for then there was either no course of nature at all, or a power must have been exerted totally different from what that course is at present : all men and animals can- not have been born, as they are now ; but a pair of each sort must have been produced at first, in a way alto- gether unlike to that in which they have been since pro- duced ; unless we affirm, that men and animals have ex- isted from eternity in an endless succession ; one miracle therefore at least there must have been at the beginning of the world, or at the time of man's creation. Not af^ ier the settlement of a course of nature, on account of mir- acles being contrary to that course, or, in other words, contrary to experience; for, in order to know whether miracles, worked in attestation of a divine religion, be contrary to experience or not, we ought to be acquainted with other cases, similar or parallel to those, in which miracles are alleged to have been wrought. But where shall we find such similar or parallel cases? The world which we inhabit affords none: we know of no extraor- dinary revelations from God to man, but those recorded in the Old and New Testament; all of which Avcre es- tablished by miracles; it cannot therefore be said, that miracles arc incredible, because contrary to cx])crience, when all the experience we have is in favour of miracles, and on the side of religion** Besides, in reasoning con- • In the common afEairs of life, common ejtjycrience is suflScient to direct us. But C xxxiv PREFACE cerning miracles, they ought not to be compared with common natural events, but with uncommon appear- ances, such as comets, magnetism, electricity; which, to one acquainted only with the usual phenomena of nature, and the common powers of matter, must, before proof of their actual existence, be thought incredible. # The presumption against Revelation in general being dispatched, objections against the Christian Revelation in particular, against the scheme of it, as distinguished from objections against its evidence, are considered next. Now supposing a revelation to be really given, it is highly probable beforehand, that it must contain ma- ny things appearing to us liable to objections. The ac- knowledged dispensation of nature is very different from what we should have expected : reasoning then from an- alogy, the revealed dispensation, it is credible, would be also different. Nor are we in any sort judges at what time, or in what degree, or manner, it is fit or expedient for God to instruct us, in things confessedly of the great- est use, either by natural reason, or by supernatural in- formation. Thus, arguing on speculation only, and without experience, it would seem very unlikely that so important a remedy as that provided by Christianity, for the recovery of mankind from ruin, should have been for so many ages withheld; and, when at last vouchsafed, should be imparted to so few ; and, after it has been im- parted, should be attended with obscurity and doubt. And just so we might have argued, before experience, concerning the remedies provided in nature for bodily diseases, to which by nature we are exposed: for many of these were unknown to mankind for a number of ages ; will common experience serve to guide our judgment concerning the fall and redemp* Hon of mankind? From what we see every day, can we explain the covimencer/ienty or foretell the dissolution of the world ? To judge of events like these, we should be conversant in the history of other planets ; should be distinctly informed of God's various dispensations lo all the different orders of rational beings. Instead then of grounding our religious opinions on what we call experience, let us apply to a more certain guide, let us hfarken to the testimony of (J(xl himself. The credibility of human testimony, and the conduct of human agents, are sulijccts perfectly within the reach of our natural faculties ; and we ought to desire no firmer foundation for our belief of religion, than for the judgments u e form in the conunon afiiiirs of life : ■where we see a little plain testimony easily outweighs the most .s|)ecious conjectures, and not seldom even strong prohahilities." Dr Itiilguy's I'ourth Charge. See also an excellent pamphlet, entitled. "Remarks on Mr Hume's Kssay on the Natural History of Religion," sect. 5 ; and the Sixth of l)r Towell's Discourses. BY THE EDITOR. XXXV are known but to few now; some important ones prob- ably not discovered yet; and those which are, neither certain in their appHcation, nor universal in their use: and the same mode of reasoning that would lead us to expect they should have been so, would lead us to ex- pect that the necessity of them should have been super- seded, by there being no diseases ; as the necessity of the Christian scheme, it may be thought, might also have been superseded, by preventing the fall of man, so that he should not have stood in need of a Redeemer at all.* As to objections against the wisdom and goodness of Christianity, the same answer may be applied to them as was to the like objections against the constitution of nature. For here also, Christianity is a scheme or econ- omy, composed of various parts, forming a whole; in which scheme means are used for the accomplishing of ends ; and which is conducted by general laws, of all of which we know as little as we do of the constitution of nature. And the seeming want of wisdom or goodness in this system is to be ascribed to the same cause, as the like appearances of defects in the natural system; our inabihty to discern the whole scheme, and our ignorance of the relation of those parts which are discernible to others beyond our view. The objections against Christianity as a matter of fact, and against the wisdom and goodness of it, having been obviated together, the chief of them are now to be con- sidered distinctly. One of these, which is levelled against the entire system itself, is of this sort: the re- storation of mankind, represented in Scripture as the great design of the Gospel, is described as requiring a long series of means, and persons, and dispensations, before it can be brought to its completion; whereas the whole ought to have been effected at once. Now every thing we see in the course of nature shows the folly of this objection. For in the natural course of Providence, ends are brought about by means, not operating imme- diately and at once, but deliberately, and in a way of pro- gression; one thing being subservient to another, this to somewhat fui'ther. The change of seasons, the ripening * Chhp. iiL xxxvi PREFACE of fruits, the growth of vegetable and animal bodies, are instances of this. And therefore, that the same pro- gressive method should be followed in the dispensation of Christianity, as is observed in the common dispensa- tion of Providence, is a reasonable expectation, justified by the analogy of nature.* Another circumstance objected to in the Christian scheme is the appointment of a Mediator, and the sav- ing of the world through him. But the visible govern- ment of God being actually administered in this way, or by the mediation and instrumentality of others, there can be no general presumption against an appointment of this kind, against his invisible government being ex- ercised in the same manner. We have seen already, that with regard to ourselves this visible government is carried on by rewards and punishments; for happiness and misery are the consequences of our own actions, considered as virtuous and vicious ; and these conse- quences we are enabled to foresee. It might have been imagined, before consulting experience, that after we had rendered ourselves liable to misery by our own ill conduct, sorrow for what was past, and behaving well for the future, would, alone and of themselves, have ex- empted us from deserved punishment, and restored us to the divine favour. But the fact is otherwise ; and real reformation is often found to be of no avail, so as to se- cure the criminal from poverty, sickness, infamy, and death, the never-failing attendants on vice and extrava- gance, exceeding a certain degree. By the course of nature then it appears, God does not always pardon a sinner on his repentance. Yet there is provision made, even in nature, that the miseries, which men bring on themselves by unlawful indulgences, may in many cases be mitigated, and in some removed ; partly by extraor- dinary exertions of the offender himself, but more es- pecially and frequently by the intervention of others, who voluntarily, and from motives of compassion, submit to labour and sorrow, such as produce long and lasting inconveniences to themselves, as the means of rescuing another from the wretched effects of former imprudences, * Chap, iv. BY THE EDITOR. xxxvii V^icarious punishment, therefore, or one person's suffer- ings contributing to the rehef of another, is a providential disposition in the economy of nature and it ought not to be matter of surprise, if by a method analogous to this we be redeemed from sin and misery, in the economy of grace. That mankind at present are in a state of de- gradation, different from that in which they were origi- nally created, is the very ground of the Christian reve- lation, as contained in the Scriptures. Whether we ac- quiesce in the account, that our being placed in such a state is owing to the crime of our first parents, or choose to ascribe it to any other cause, it makes no difference as to our condition: the vice and unhappiness of the world are still there, notwithstanding all our supposi- tions: nor is it Christianity that hath put us into this state. We learn also from the same Scriptures, what experience and the use of expiatory sacrifices from the most early times might have taught us, that repentance alone is not sufficient to prevent the fatal consequences of past transgressions: but that still there is room for mercy, and that repentance shall be available, though not of itself, yet through the mediation of a divine Per- son, the Messiah; who, from the sublimest principles of compassion, when we were dead in trespasses and shis,t " suffered and died, the innocent for the guilty, the just for the wijiistyX that we miglit have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins.% In what way the death of Christ was of that eiiicacy it is said to be, in procuring the reconciliation of sinners, the Scriptures have not explained; it is enough that the doctrine is re- vealed; that it is not contrary to any truths which reason and experience teach us; and that it accords in • Dr Artlmr Aslslcy Sykrs, from wliose writinj^s sonio pootl may l)e collectnl out ol n miiltitiKlr of tliiiifrs of a ooiitniry tciidniry, in wlial lie is plcasdl to call "Tlie Scrij»tiin' Dodriiu' of RcdcinpLion," {svv Llir obscrvalioiis on llie t» xts ci(« tl in his fir>t cluiptrr, itnd also in cli;i|ii«'rs '.lie fifth and sixth.) opposes what is lu-rc ndvancfd by Itishop liiitU r; quoLin<»' his wonls, hut without inrulioninu his nanir. If what is said !ibd in tlie Ixxly of the work. Oiw on PevMonal lUmiitff, ui which art- omtainea some strictun-s on Mr Ixxrkt*, who aww-rus Uiat consciousnf-.ii*riou5m*ss iruikrs only per- sonality, or is necesbarj to tlic id* a ot a pfr>on, i. <•. a tliinwmg inK-lligent being, but xl PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. terns of Bishop Butler, it will immediately be perceived, is chiefly intended for younger students, especially for- students in Divinity ; to whom it is hoped it may be of use, so as to encourage them to peruse, with proper dili- gence, the original works of the Author himself. For it may be necessary to observe, that neither of the volumes of this excellent Prelate are addressed to those who read for amusement, or curiosity, or to get rid of time. All subjects are not to be comprehended with the same- ease ; and morality and religion, when treated as sciences, . each accompanied with difficulties of its own, can neither of them be understood as they ought without a very peculiar attention. But morality and religion are not merely to be studied as sciences, or as being speculatively true ; they are to be regarded in another and higher light, as the rule of life and manners, as containing - authoritative directions by which to regulate our faith' and practice. And in this view, the infinite importance of them, considered, it can never be an indifferent matter • whether they be received or rejected. For both claim to be the voice of God; and whether they be so or not, cannot be known, till their claims be impartially examin- ed. If they indeed come from Him, we are bound to conform to them at our peril ; nor is it left to our choice, whether we will submit to the obligations they impose upon us or not; for submit to them we must, in such a sense, as to incur the punishments denounced by both against wilful disobedience to their injunctions. presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, personal identity : just as knowledge presnpi)oses truth, but does not constitute it. Consciousness of past actions does in- deed show us tlie identity of ourselves, or gives us a certain assurance that we are- the same persons or living agents now, which we were at the time to which our re- nie cate him for the ministry, among the Protestant Dissen- ters of the Presbyterian denomination. For this pur- pose, after he had gone through a proper course of grammatical literature, at the free grammar school of his native place, under the care of the Rev. Mr Philip Bar- ton, a Clergyman of the Church of England, he was sent to a Dissenting academy, then kept at Gloucester, but which was soon afterwards removed to Tewkesbury. The principal tutor of this academy was Mr Jones, a man of uncommon abilities and knowledge, who had the honour of training up several scholars, who became of great eminence, both in the Established Church and among the Dissenters. At Tewkesbury Mr Butler made an extraordinary progress in the study of Divinity; of which he gave a. remarkable proof, in the letters ad- dressed by him, while he resided at Tewkesbury, to Dr Samuel Clarke, laying before him the doubts that had arisen in his mind, concerning the conclusiveness of some arguments in the Doctor's demonstration of the being and attributes of God. The first of these letters was dated the 4th of November, 1713; and the sagacity and depth of thought displayed in it, immediately excit- ed Dr Clarke's ])articular notice. This condescension encouraged Mr Butler to address the Doctor again upon the same subject, which likewise was ans tv^ercd by \um ; and the correspondence being carried on in three other fXe VKns the yoimirrst of » ii;Iit cluMn ii. xlii « THE LIFE OF letters, the whole was annexed to the celebrated treatise before mefltioned, and the collection has been retained in all the subsequent ediUons of that work. The man- agement of this correspondence was entrusted by Mr Butler to his friend and fellow-pupil, Mr Seeker, who, in order to conceal the affair, undertook to convey the letters to the post-office at Gloucester, and to bring back Dr Clarke's answers. When Mr Butler's name was dis- covered to the Doctor, the candour, modesty, and good sense, with which he had written, immediately procured him the friendship of that eminent and excellent man. Oar young student was not, however, during his contin- uance at Tewkesbury, solely employed in metaphysical speculations and inquiries. Another subject of his seri- ous consideration was, the propriety of his becoming a Dissenting minister. Accordingly, he entered into an examination of the principles of non-conformity ; the re- sult of which was, such a dissatisfaction with them, as determined him to conform to the Established Church. This intention was, at first, disagreeable to his father, who endeavoured to divert him from his purpose ; and, with that view, called in the assistance of some eminent Presbyterian Divines ; but finding his son's resolution to be fixed, he at length suffered him to be removed to Ox- ford, where he was admitted a commoner of Oriel Col- lege, on the 17th of March, 1714. At what time he took Orders doth not appear, nor who the Bishop was by whom he was ordained; but it is certain that he entered into the Church soon after his admission at Oxford, if it be true, as is asserted, that he sometimes assisted Mr Edward Talbot in thfe divine service, at his living of Hendred, near Wantage. With this gentleman, who was the second son of Dr William Talbot, successively Bdshop of Oxford, Salisbury, and Durham, Mr Butler formed an intimate friendship at Oriel College ; which friendship laid the foundation of all his subsequent pre- ferments, and procured for him a very honourable situa- tion, when he was only twenty-six years of age. For it was in 1718 that, at the recommendation of Mr Talbot, in conjunction wilh that of Dr Clarke, he was appointed by Sir ,]oso))]i Jckyll t(; Le pr. achcr at the Rolls. This DR BUTLER. xliii was three years before he had taken any degree at the University, where he did not go out Bachelor of Law till the 10th of June, 1721, which, however, was as soon as that degree could suitably be conferred upon him. Mr Butler continued at the Rolls till 1726 ; in the be- ginning of which year he published, in one volume, oc- tavo, " Fifteen Sermons preached at that Chapel." In the mean while, by the patronage of Dr Talbot, Bishop of Durham, to whose notice he had been recommended (together with Mr Benson and Mr Seeker) by Mr Ed- ward Talbot, on his death-bed, our Author had been presented first to the rectory of Haughton,nearDarhngton, and afterwards to that of Stanhope, in the same diocese. The benefice of Haughton was given to him in 1722, and that of Stanhope in 1725. At Haughton there was a necessity for rebuilding a great part of the parsonage- house, and Mr Butler had neither money nor talents for that work. Mr Seeker, therefore, who had always the in- terest of his friends at heart, and had acquired a very con- siderable influence with Bishop Talbot, persuaded that Prelate to give Mr Butler, in exchange for Haughton, the rectory of Stanhope, which was not only free from any such incumbrance, but was likewise of much supe- jior value, being indeed one of the richest parsonages in England. Whilst our Author continued preacher at the Rolls Chapel, he divided his time between his duty in town and country ; but when he quitted the Rolls, he resided during seven years, wholly at Stanhope, in the conscientious discharge of every obligation appertaining to a good parish priest. This retirement, however, was too solitary for his disposition, which had in it a natural cast of gloominess. And though his recluse hours were by no means lost, either to private improvement or pub- lic utility, yet he felt at times, very painfully, the want of that select society of friends to which lie had been ac- customed, and which could inspire him witli the greatest cheerfulness. Mr Seeker, therefore, who knew this, was extremely anxious to draw him out into a more active and conspicuous scene, and omitted no o])portunity of expressing this desire to such as he tliought capable of promoting it. Having himself been appointed King's xliv THE LIFE OF Chaplain in 1732, he took occasion, in a conversation which he had the honour of holding with Queen Caro- line, to mention to her his friend Mr Butler. The Queen said she thought he had been dead. Mr Seeker assured her he was not. Yet her Majesty afterwards asked Archbishop Blackburn, if he was not dead : his answer was, " No, madam ; bat he is buried." Mr Seek- er continuing his purpose of endeavouring to bring his friend out of his retirement, found means, upon Mr Charles Talbot's being made Lord Chancellor, to have Mr Butler recommended to him for his Chaplain. His Lordship accepted, and sent for him ; and this promo- tion calling him to Town, he took Oxford in his way, and was admitted there to the degree of Doctor of Law, on the 8th of December, 1733. The Lord Chancellor, who gave him also a prebend in the church of Rochester, had consented that he should reside at his parish of Stanhope one half of the year. Dr Butler being thus brought back into the world, his merit and his talents soon introduced him to particular notice, and paved the way for his rising to those high dignities which he afterwards enjoyed. In 1736 he was appointed Clerk of the Closet to Queen Caroline ; and, in the same year, he presented to her Majesty a copy oi his excellent Treatise, entitled, The Analogy of Reli- gion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." His attendance upon his Royal Mistress, by her especial command, was from seven to nine in the evening every day : and though this particu- lar relation to that excellent and learned Queen was soon determined by her death, in 1737, yet he had been so effectually recommended by her, as well as by the late Lord Chancellor Talbot, to his Majesty's favour, that in the next year he was raised to the highest order of the Church, by a nomination to the bishopric of Bristol ; to wliich see he was consecrated on the 3d of December 1738. King George II. not being satisfied with this proof of his regard to Dr Butler, promoted him, in 1740, to the Deanery of St Paul's, London, into which he was installed on the 24th of May in that year. Finding the demands of this dignity to be incompatible with his pa- DR BUTLER. xlV rjsh duty at Stanhope, he immediately resigned that rich benefice. Besides our Prelate's unremitted attention to his peculiar obligations, he was called upon to preach several discourses on public occasions, which were af- terwards separately printed, and have since been annex- ed to the latter editions of the Sermons at the Rolls Cha- pel. In 1746, upon the death of Dr Egerton, Bishop of Hereford, Dr Butler was made Clerk of the Closet to the King ; and, on the 16th of October 1750, he received an- other distinguished mark of his Majesty's favour, by be- ing translated to the see of Durham. This was on the 16th of October in that year, upon the decease of Dr Ed- ward Chandler. Our Prelate being thus appointed to preside over a diocese with which he had long been con- nected, delivered his first, and indeed his last Charge to his Clergy, at his primary visitation in 1751. The prin- cipal object of it was " External Religion." The Bishop having observed, with deep concern, the great and grow- ing neglect of serious piety in the kingdom, insisted strongly on the usefulness of outward forms and institu- tions, in fixing and preserving a sense of devotion and duty in the minds of men. In doing this, he was thought by several persons to speak too favourably of Pagan and Popish ceremonies, and to countenance, in a certain de- gree, the cause of superstition. Under that apprehension, an able and spirited writer, who was understood to be a Clergyman of the Church of England, published, in 1752, a pamphlet, entitled, "A Serious Inquiry into the Use ,and Importance of External Religion ; occasioned by some Passages in the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Durham's Charge to the Clergy of that Diocese ; — Hum- bly addressed to his Lordship." Many persons, how- ever, and we believe the greater part of the Clergy of the diocese, did not think our Prelate's Charge so exception- able as it appeared to this author. The Charge, being printed at Durham, and having never been annexed to any of Dr Butler's other works, is now become extreme- ly scarce ; and it is observable, that it is the only one of his publications which ever produced him a direct liter- ary antagonist. By this promotion, our worthy Bishop was furnished Xlvi THE LIFE OF With ample means of exerting the virtue of charity ; a virtue which eminently abounded in him, and the exer- cise of which was his highest dehght. But this gratifica- tion he did not long enjoy. He had been but a short time seated in his new bishopric, when his health began visi- bly to decline ; and having been complimented, during his indisposition, upon account of his great resignation to the Divine will, he is said to have expressed some regret, that he should be taken from the present world so soon after he had been rendered capable of becoming much more useful in it. In his illness he was carried to Bris- tol, to try the waters of that place ; but these proving in- effectual, he removed to Bath, where, being past recovery, he died on the 16th of June, 1752. His corpse was con- veyed to Bristol, and interred in the cathedral there, where a monument, with an inscription, is erected to his memory. - On the greatness of Bishop Butler's character we need not enlarge ; for his profound knowledge, and the prodi- gious strength of his mind, are amply displayed in his incomparable writings. His piety was of the most seri- ous and fervent, and, perhaps, somewhat of the ascetic kind. His benevolence was warm, generous, and diffu- sive. Whilst he was Bishop of Bristol, he expended, in repairing and improving the episcopal palace, four thou- sand pounds, which is said to have been more than the whole revenues of the bishopric amounted to, during his continuance in that see. Besides his private benefactions, he was a contributor to the infirmary at Bristol, and a subscriber to three of the hospitals at London. He was likewise a principal promoter, though not the first found- er, of the infirmary at Newcastle, in Northumberland. In supporting the hospitality and dignity of the rich and powerful diocese of Durham, he was desirous of imitating the spirit of his patron. Bishop Talbot. In this spirit he set apart three days every week for the reception and en- tertainment of the principal gentry of the country. Nor were even the Clergy who had the poorest benefices ne- glected by him. He not only occasionally invited them to dine with him, but condescended to visit them at their respective parishes. By his will he left five hundred DR BUTLER. xlvii pounds to the Society for propagating the Gospel in Fo- reign Parts, and some legacies to his friends and domes- tics. His executor and residuary legatee was his chap- lain, the Rer. Dr Xaihanael Forster, a diwae of distm- guished literature. Bishop Butler was never married. Soon after his decease, tlie following lines, by way of epitaph, were written concerning him ; and were printed first, if we recollect aright, in the London Magazine. Beneath this marble Butler lies entomb'd. Who. with a soul inflamed by love divine, HLs life in presence of his God consumed, Like the brigfit lamps before the holy shrine. His aspect pleasing, mind with learning fraught His eloquence ^-as like a chain of gold, That the wild passions of mankind controll'd ; Merit, wherever to be found, he sought. Desire of transient riches he had none ; These he, ^ith bounteous hand, did well dispense ; Bent to fulfill the ends of Providence ; His heart stiU fix'd on an immortal crown. His hean a mirror was, of purest kind. Where the bright image of his Maker shined ; Reflecting faithful to the throne above, Th' inadiant glories of the Mystic Dove. The following Epitaph, said to be written by Dr Xa- thanael Forster, is inscribed on a flat marble stone, in the cathedral church of Bristol, placed over the spot where the remains of Bishop Butler are deposited; and which, as it is now almost obliterated, it may be worth while here to preserve. H. s. Reverendns admoiium in Christo Pater JOSEPIIUS BL TLER, LL.D. Huju^ce primo Diorc^'seos Deinde Dunelmensis E|. iscopus. Quali: quanliisque Vir erat Sua libenlis* me ai»i»ovit n^tas: Et si quid Praesuli aut Scrifiton ad fimam valeflt MeiK altissima, Ingenii perspicacis el suhacii Vis, %fiiinti who would not act, and with great application too, not only upon an even chance, but upon much less, and-^ where the probability or chance w^as greatly against his succeeding.* It is not my design to inquire further into the nature, the foundation, and measure of probability ; or whence it proceeds that likeness should beget that presumption,, opinion, and full conviction, which the human mind i& formed to receive from it, and which it does necessarily produce in every one ; or to guard against the errors, ta which reasoning from analogy is liable. This belongs to^ the subject of Logic ; and is a part of that subject which has not yet been thoroughly considered. Indeed I shall not take upon me to say, how far the extent, compass, and force, of analogical reasoning, can be reduced to general heads and rules; and the whole be formed into a system. But though so little in this way has been attempted by those who liave treated of our intellectual powers, and the exercise of them ; this does not hinder but that we may be, as we unquestionably are, assured^ that analogy is of weight, in various degrees, towards determining our judgment and oiir practice. Nor does it in any wise cease to be of weight in those cases, because persons, cither eiven to dispute, or who require things to be stated w^ith greater exactness than our faculties ap- pear to admit of in practical matters, may find other cases in which it is not easy to say, w^hether it be, or be ♦ See {'Ml II. Cliap. vi. INTRODUCTION. not, of any -weight ; or instances of seeming analogies, which are really of none. It is enough to the present purpose to observe, that this general way of arguing is evidently natural, just, and conclusive. For there is no man can make a question but that the sun will rise to- morrow, and be seen, where it is seen at all, in the figure of a circle, and not in that of a square. Hence, namely from analogical reasoning, Origen* has with singular sagacity observed, that he ivho believes the Scripture to have proceeded from him icho is the Author of Nature, may well expect to find the same sort of difficulties in it, as are found in the constitution of Nature. And in a like way of reflection it may be added, that he who denies the Scripture to have been from God upon ac- count of these difficulties, may, for the very same reason, deny the world to have been formed by him. On the other hand, if there be an analogy or likeness between that system of things and dispensation of Providence, which Revelation informs us of, and that system of things and dispensation of Providence, which Experience to- gether with Reason informs us of, i. e. the known course of Nature ; this is a presumption, that they have both the same author and cause ; at least so far as to answer objections against the former's being from God, drawn from any thing which is analogical or similar to what is in the latter, which is acknowledged to be from him ; for an Author of Nature is here supposed. Forming our notions of the constitution and govern- ment of the world upon reasoning, without foundation for the principles which we assume, whether from tlie at- tributes of God, or any thing else, is building a world upon hypothesis, like ])es Cartes. Forming our notions upon reasoning from principles which are certain, but applied to cases to which we have no ground to apply them (like those who explain the structure of the human body, and the nature of diseases and medicines from mere mathe- matics without sufficient daia,) is an error much akin to the former : since what is assumed in order to make the * X(*| fitf Tti yt T»» uTa^ »v<««3 f ;» >» ftj xfi^'/»:*.>j ret mcvfttt t^»at TSvraf nit yfrn^g WlWltrS*/, *ri vui rn; »r!r%m; awmtrei rtTg '^TtZri ri» Wt*i myriit )ressioii iinavoiilahly nniliipiious ; nnd nuiy '•i^nify «-itliri- i/if ilcstruction of a living bei/ig, so as that the same living being shall he unrapahle of rvrr perceiving or o,-hujr u^ain at all ; or the destructnm of those yneuns and inslrtnuents hy which it is caparmt, of its prrscut fife, of its present state of pi-rception and of action. It i^ lim- iispil in llir tornu-r Sf-nsp. WImii it is uspil ill ilii- iatiiT, liu' ppiilipi present is adtlrtl. Tlir loss ol n nuui's » yp is a «lpstnic- tioii of liviiifT |„i\vprs ill ilir latirr s« nsp. Hiit \vp liavp no n-ason to think, llip iIp- 8lr:iriion of iivmp jxiwrrs, in llu- forinrr s«'Iinp, 'o hv |h»kmIi1p \\> havp no nM)ri* rpHsoii to lliink a l)fi|i«r t iidiHti wiUi livmj. |.<)\v»tn r\«T Id^ts lh« in duriii;^ its whole ciistena-, ihun tu Ix Jit ve that a ^tone pvrr ac'iinrr^. liu in. 60 OF A FUTURE LIFE. rPAKr. I. also that they exist, when there is no present capacity of exercising them : or that the capacities of exercising them for the present, as well as the actual exercise of them, maybe suspended, and yet the powers themselves remain undestroyed. Since then we know not at all upon what the existence of our living powers depends, this shows further, there can no probability be collected from the reason of the thing, that death will be their destruction: because their existence may depend upon somewhat in no degree affected by death ; upon some- what quite out of the reach of this king of terrors. So that there is nothing more certain, than that the reason of the thing shows us no connexion between death and the destruction of living agents. Nor can we find any thing throughout the whole analogy of nature, to afford us even the slightest presumption, that animals ever lose their living powers; much less if it were pos- sible, that they lose them by death : for we have no faculties wherewith to trace any beyond or through it, so as to see what becomes of them. This event removes them from our view. It destroys the sensible proof, which we had before their death, of their being possessed of living powers, but does not appear to afford the least reason to believe that they are, then, or by that event, deprived of them. And our knowing, that they were possessed of these powers, up to the very period to which we have faculties capable of tracing them, is itself a probability of their retaining them beyond it. And this is confirmed, and a sensible credibility is given to it, by observing the very great and astonishing changes which we have experi- enced; so great, that our existence in another state of life, of perception and of action, will be but according to a method of providential conduct, the like to which has been already exercised even with regard to our- selves; according to a course of nature, the like to which we have already gone through. However, as one cannot but be greatly sensible, how difficult it is to silence imagination enough to make the voice of reason even distinctly heard in this case; as we are accustomed, from our youth up, to indulge that for- Chap. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 61 ward, delusive faculty, ever obtruding beyond its sphere ; of some assistance indeed to apprehension, but the author of all error: as we plainly lose ourselves in gross and crude conceptions of things, taking for granted that we are acquainted with what indeed we are wholly ignorant of: it may be proper to consider the imaginary presumptions, that death will be our destruction, arising from these kinds of early and lasting prejudices; and to show how little they can really amount to, even though we cannot wholly divest ourselves of them. And, T. All presumption of death's being the destruction of living beings, must go upon supposition that they are compounded; and so, discerptible. But since conscious- ness is ^ single and indivisible power, it should seem that the subject in which it resides must be so too. For were the motion of any particle ofmatter absolutely one and indivisible, so as that it should imply a contradiction to suppose part of this motion to exist, and part not to exist, i, e. part of this matter to move, and part to be at rest ; then its power of motion would be indivisible ; and so also would the subject in which the power inheres, namely, the particle of matter: for if this could be de- rided into tv/o, one part might be moved and the other at rest, which is contrary to the supposition. In like manner it has been argued,* and, for any thing appear- ing to the contrary, justly, that since the perception or consciousness, which we have of our own existence, is indivisible, so as that it is a contradiction to suppose one part of it should be here and the other there; the perceptive power, or the power of consciousness, is in- divisible too: and consequently the subject in which it resides; i. e. tlie conscious Being. Now upon supposi- tion that living agent each man calls himself, is thus a single being, which there is at least no more difficulty in conceiving than in conceiving it to be a compound, and of which there is the proof now mentioned; it fol- lows, that our organized bodies are no more ourselves or part of ourselves, than any other matter around us. And it is as easy to conceive, how matter, which is no part of ourselves, may be appropriated to us in the * See Dr Clarke's Letter to Mr Dodwell, oiid the defeucet of it* 62 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [Part I. manner wliich our present bodies are; as liow we can receive impressions from, and have power over, any matter. It is as easy to conceive, that we may exist out of bodies, as in them ; that we might have animated bodies of any other organs and senses wholly different from these now given us, and that we may hereafter animate these same or new bodies variously modified and organized; as to conceive how we can animate such bodies as our present. And lastly, the dissolution of all these several organized bodies, supposing ourselves to have successively animated them, would have no more conceivable tendency to destroy the living beings ourselves, or deprive us of living faculties, the faculties of perception and of action, than the dissolution of any foreign matter, which we are capable of receiving im- pressions from, and making use of, for the common occasions of life. II. The simplicity and absolute oneness of a living agent cannot indeed, from the nature of the thing, be properly proved by experimental observations. But as these fall in with the supposition of its unity, so they plainly lead us to conclude certainly, that our gross organized bodies, with which we perceive the objects of sense, and with which we act, are no part of ourselves ; and therefore show us, that we have no reason to believe their destruction to be ours: even without determining whether our living substances be material or immaterial. For we see by experience, that men may lose their limbs, their organs of sense, and even the greatest part of these bodies, and yet remain the same living agents. And persons can trace up the existence of themselves to a time, when the bulk of their bodies was extremely small, in comparison of what it is in mature age: and we cannot but think, that they might then have lost a considerable part of that small body, and yet have re- mained the same living agents; as they may now lose great part of their present body, and remain so. And it is certain, that the bodies of all animals are in a con- stant flux, from that never-ceasing attrition, which there is in every part of them. Now things of this kind un- avoidably teach us to distinguish, between these living Chap. I. J OF A FUTURE LIFE. 63 agents onr?elves, and large quantities of matter, in whirh we are very nearly interested: since these may be alienated, and actually are in a daily course of suc- cession, and changing their owners ; whilst we are r^.ssured, that eacli living agent remains one and the same permanent being. * And this general observation leads us on to the followinsf ones. Fii^st, That we have no way of determining by ex- perience, what is the certain bulk of the living being each man calls himself: and yet, till it be determined that it is larger in bulk than the solid elementary parti- cles of matter, which there is no ground to think any natural power can dissolve, there is no sort of reason to think death to be the dissolution of it, of the living being, even though it should not be absolutely indiscerptible. Secondly, From our being so nearly related to and interested in certain systems of matter, suppose our flesh and bones, and afterwards ceasing to be at all re- lated to them, the living agents ourselves remaining all this while undestroyed notwithstanding such alienation ; and consequently these systems of matter not being ourselves : it follows further, that we have no ground to conclude any other, suppose internal systems of matter, to be the living agents ourselves ; because we can have no ground to conclude this, but from our re- lation to and interest in such other systems of matter : and therefore we can have no reason to conclude, what befalls those systems of matter at death, to be the de- struction of the living agents. We have already several times over lost a great part or perhaps the whole of our body, according to certain common established laws of nature ; yet we remain the san:ie living agents : when we shall lose as great a part, or the whole, by another common established law of nature, death ; why mav we not also remain the same ? That the alienation has been gradual in one case, and in the other will be more at once, does not prove any thing to the contrary. We have passed undestroyed tii rough those man\ and great revolutions of matter, so j^eculiarlv appropriated to us ourselves ; why should we imagine death wjU be so • DisserlaUon I. €4 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [Part L fatal to us ? Nor can it be objected, that what is thus alienated or lost, is no part of our original solid body, but only adventitious matter ; because we may lose entire limbs, which must have contained many solid parts and vessels of the original body ; or if this be not admitted, we have no proof, that any of these solid parts are dis'solved or alienated by death. Though, by the way, we are very nearly related to that extraneous or adventitious matter, whilst it continues united to and distending the several parts of our solid body. But after all ; th^ relation a person bears to those parts of his body, to which he is the most nearly related ; what does it appear to amount to but this, that the living agent, and those parts of the body, mutually affect each other P And the same thing, the same thing in kind though not in degree, may be said of all foreign matter, which gives us ideas, and which we have any power over. From these observations the whole ground of the imagination is removed, that the dissolution of any matter, is the destruction of a living agent, from the interest he once had in such matter. Thirdly, If we consider our body somewhat more distinctly, as made up of organs and instruments of perception and of motion, it will bring us to the same conclusion. Thus the common optical experiments show, and even the observation how sight is assisted by glasses shows, that we see with our eyes in the same sense as we see with glasses. Nor is there any reason to believe, that we see with them in any other sense ; any other, I mean, which would lead us to think the eye itself a percipient. The like is to be said of hearing: and our feeling distant solid matter by means of some- what in our hand seems an instance of the like kind, as to the subject we are considering. All these are in- stances of foreign matter, or such as is no part of our body, being instrumental in preparing objects for, and conveying them to, the perceiving power, in a manner similar or like to the manner in which our organs of sense prepare and convey them. Both are in a hke way instruments of our receiving such ideas from ex- ternal objects, as the Author of nature appointed those Chap. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 65 external objects to be the occasions of exciting in us. However, glasses are evidently instances of this ; name ly of matter which is no part of our body, preparing objects for and conveying them towards the perceiving power, in like manner as our bodily organs do. And if we see with our eyes only in the same manner as we do with glasses, the like may justly be concluded, from analogy, of all our other senses. It is not intended, by any thing here said, to affirm, that the whole apparatus of vision, or of perception by any other of our senses, can be traced through all its steps, quite up to the living power of seeing, or perceiving : but that so far as it can be traced by experimental observations, so far it appears, that our organs of sense prepare and convey on objects, in order to their being perceived, in like manner as foreign matter does, without affording any shadow of appearance, that they themselves perceive. And that we have no reason to think our organs of sense perci- pients, is confirmed by instances of persons losing some of them, the living beings themselves, their former oc- cupiers, remainmg unimpaired. It is confirmed also by the experience of dreams ; by which we find we are at present possessed of a latent, and what would otherwise be, an unimagined unknown power of perceiving sensi- ble objects, in as strong and lively a manner without our external organs of sense as with them. So also with regard to our power of moving, or direct- ing motion by will and choice ; upon the destruction of a limb, this active power remains, as it evidently seems, unlessened ; so as that the living being, who has suffer- ed this loss, would be capable of moving as before, if it had another limb to move with. It can walk by the help of an artificial leg ; just as it can make use of a pole or a lever, to reach towards itself and to move things, beyond the length and tlie power of its natural arm; and this last it does in the same manner as it reaches and moves, with its natural arm, things nearer and of less weight. Nor is there so much as any ap- pearance of our limbs being endued with a power of moving^or directing themselves ; though they are adiipt- ed, like the several parts of a machine, to be the instru- I 66 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [Part I. merits of motion to each otlier ; and some parts of the same hmb, to be instruments of motion to other parts of it. Thus a man determines, that he wili look at such an object through a microscope ; or being lame suppose, that he will walk to such a place with a staff a week hence. His eyes and his feet no more determine in these cases, than the microscope and the staff. Nor is there any ground to think they any more put the deter- mination in practice ; or that his eyes are the seers or his feet the movers, in any other sense than as the mi- croscope and the staff are. Upon the whole then, our organs of sense and our limbs are certainly instruments, which the living persons ourselves make use of to per- ceive and move with ; there is not any probability, that they are any more ; nor consequently, that we have any other kind of relation to them, than what we have to any other foreign matter formed into instruments of percep- tion and motion, suppose into a microscope or a staff (I say any other kind of relation, for I am not speaking of the degree of it) ; nor consequently is there any proba- bility, that the alienation or dissolution of these instru- ments is the destruction of the perceiving and moving agent. And thus our finding, that the dissolution of matter, in which living beings were most nearly interested, is not their dissolution ; and that the destruction of several of the organs and instruments of perception and of mo- tion belonging to them, is not their destruction ; shows demonstratively, that there is no ground to think that the dissolution of any other matter, or destruction of any other organs and instruments, will be the dissolution or destruction of living agents, from the like kind of rela- tion. And we have no reason to think we stand in any other kind of relation to any thing which we find dissolved by death. But it is said these observations are equally applicable to brutes : and it is thought an insuperable difficulty, that they should be immortal, and by consequence capable of everlasting happiness. Now this manner of expression is both invidious and weak : but the thing intended by Chap. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 67 it, is really no difficulty at all, either in tlie way of na- tural or moral consideration. For 1st, Suppose the in- vidious thing, designed in such a manner of expression, were really implied, as it is not in the least, in the na- tural immortality of brutes : namely, that they must ar- rive at great attainments, and become rational and moral agents; even this would be no difficulty: since we know not what latent powers and capacities they may be endued with. There was once, prior to experience, as great presumption against human creatures as there is against the brute creatures, arriving at that degree of understanding, which we have in mature age. For we can trace up our own existence to the same original with theirs. And we find it to be a general law of na- ture, that creatures endued with capacities of virtue and religion should be placed in a condition of being, in which they are altogether without the use of them, for a con- siderable length of their duration ; as in infancy and childhood. And great part of the human species go out of the present world, before they come to the exercise of these capacities in any degree at all. But then, 2dly, the natural immortality of brutes does not in the least imply, that they are endued with any latent capacities of a rational or moral nature. And the economy of the universe might require, that there should be living creatures without any capacities of this kind. And all difficulties as to the manner how they are to be disposed of are so apparently and wholly founded in our ignorance, that it is wonderful they should be insisted upon bv any, but such as are weak enough to think they are acquainted with the whole system of things. There is then absolutely nothing at all in this objection, which is so rhetorically urged, against the greatest part of the natural proofs or presumptions of the immortality of human minds ; I say the greatest part; for it is less applicable to the following observation, which is more peculiar to mankind: III. That as it is evident our present powers and ca- pacities of reason, memory, and aflfcctioii, do not depend upon our gross body in the manner in which perception by our organs of sense does ; so they do not appear to depend upon it at all in any such manner, as to give 68 ^ OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PARr I, ground to think, that the dissolution of this body will be the destruction of these our present powers of reflection, as it will of our powers of sensation ; or to give ground to conclude, even that it will be so much as a suspension of the former. Human creatures exist at present in two states of life and perception, greatly different from each other; each of which has its own peculiar laws and its own peculiar enjoyments and sufferings. When any of our senses are affected or appetites gratified with the objects of them, we may be said to exist or live in a state of sen- sation. When none of our senses are affected or ap- petites gratified, and yet we perceive, and reason, and act; we may be said to exist or live in a state of re- flection. Now it is by no means certain, that any thing which is dissolved by death, is any way necessary to the living being in this its state of reflection, after ideas are gained. For, though, from our present constitution and condition of being, our external organs of sense are ne- cessary for conveying in ideas to our reflecting powers, as carriages, and levers, and scaffolds are in architec- ture : yet when these ideas are brought in, we are capa- ble of reflecting in the most intense degree, and of en- joying the greatest pleasure, and feeling the greatest pain, by means of that reflection, without any assistance from our senses ; and without any at all, which we know of, from that body which will be dissolved by death. It does not appear then, that the relation of this gross body to the reflecting being is, in any degree, necessary to thinking ; to our intellectual enjoyments or sufferings : nor, consequently, that the dissolution or alienation of the former by death, will be the destruction of those pre- sent powers, which render us capable of this state of re- flection. Further, there are instances of mortal diseases, which do not at all affect our present intellectual powers ; and this affords a presumption, that those diseases will not destroy these present powers. Indeed, from the ob- servations made above, * it appears, that there is no pre- sumption, from their mutually affecting each other, that the dissolution of the body is the destruction of the liv- * Pp. 64,05. Cbaf. I.] OF A FUTURE LTFE. ing agent. And by the same reasoning, it must appear too, that there is no presumption, from their mutually- affecting each other, that the dissolution of the body is .the destruction of our present reflecting powers : but in- stances of their not affecting each other, afford a pre- sumption of the contrary. Instances of mortal diseases not impairing our present reflecting powers, evidently tm'n our thou2:hts even from imafrinins: such diseases to be the destruction of them. Several things indeed greatly affect all our living powers, and at length sus- pend the exercise of them ; as for instance drowsiness, increasing till it ends in sound sleep : and from hence we might have imagined it would destroy them, till we found by experience the weakness of this way of judg- ing. But in the diseases now mentioned, there is not so much as this shadow of probability, to lead us to any such conclusion, as to the reflecting powers which we have at present. For in those diseases, persons the moment before death appear to be in the highest vigour of life. They discover apprehension, memory, reason, all entire ; with the utmost force of r.ffection ; sense of a character, of shame and honour ; and the highest mental enjoyments and sufferings, even to the last gasp : and tliese surely prove even greater vigour of life than bodily strength does. Now what pretence is there for think- ing, that a progressive disease when arrived to such a degree, I mean that degree which is mortal, will destroy those powers, which were not impaired, which were not affected by it, during its whole progress quite up to that degree ? And if death by diseases of this kind .is not the destruction of our present reflecting powers, it will scarce be thought that death by any other means is. It is obvious that this general observation may be car- ried on further: and there appears so little connexion between our bodily powers of sensation, and our pre- sent powers of reflection, tliat there is no reason to con- clude, that death, which destroys the former, does so much as suspend the exercise of the litter, or interrupt our continiiimj to exist in the like state of reflection which we do now. For suspension of reason, memory, and 70 OP A FUTURE LIFE. [Part I.' the affections which they excite, is no part of the idea of death, nor is impHed in our notion of it. And our daily- experiencing these powers to be exercised, without any assistance, that we know of, from those bodies, which will be dissolved by death ; and our finding often, that the exercise of them is so lively to the last ; these things afford a sensible apprehension, that death may not per- haps be so much as a discontinuance of the exercise of these powers, nor of the enjoyments and sufferings which it implies.* So that our posthumous life, whatever there may be in it additional to our present, yet may not be entirely beginning anew ; but going on. Death may, in some sort and in some respects, answer to our hirth ; which is not a suspension of the faculties which we had before it, or a total change of the state of life in which we existed when in the womb ; but a continuation of both, with such and such great al- terations. Nay, for ought we know of ourselves, of our present life and of death ; death may immediately, in the natural course of things, put us into a higher and more enlarged state of life, as our birth does;t a state in which our capacities, and sphere of perception and of action, may be much greater than at present. For as our relation to our external organs of sense, renders us capable of ex- isting in our present state of sensation; so it may be the only natural hinderance to our existing, immediately, and of course, in a higher state of reflection. The truth is, reason does not at all show us, in what state death na- turally leaves us. But were we sure, that it would sus- pend all our perceptive and active powers; yet the sus- pension of a power and the destruction of it, are effects ♦There are three distinct questions, relating to a future life, here considered: Whether death be the destruction of \\vh\(r agents ; if not, Whether it be the destruction of thv\r present powers of reflection, as it Cf-rtjiinly is the destruction of their present powers of sensation ; and if not, Wiiether it be the suspension, or dis- continuance of the exercise of these present refleciing powers. Now, if there be no reason to believe the last, there will be, if' that were possible, less for the next, and less still for the first. •j- Tliis, according to Strabo, was the opinion of the Brachmans, ve^/^./y yk^ }y TOf tv} heaven, that if we acted so, he would inflict such pain> upon us, and inflicting it, whether it be greater or less. ^ Thus we find, that the true notion oi conception of 78 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD CPart I. the Author of Nature, is that of a master or governor, prior to the consideration of his moral attributes. The fact of our case, which we find by experience, is, that he actually exercises dominion or government over us at present, by rewarding and punishing us for our ac- tions, in as strict and proper a sense of these words, and even in the same sense, as children, servants, sub- jects, are rewarded and punished by those who govern them. , And thus the whole analogy of Nature, the whole pre- sent course of things, most fully shows, that there is nothing incredible in the general doctrine of religion, that God will reward and punish men for their actions hereafter: nothing incredible, I mean, arising out of the notion of rewarding and punishing. For the whole course of nature is a present instance of his exercising that government over us, which implies in it rewarding and punishing. ' But as divine punishment is what men chiefly object against, and are most unwilling to allow; it may be pro- per to mention some circumstances in the natural course of punishments at present, which are analogous to what religion teaches us concerning a future state of punish- ment; indeed so analogous, that as they add a further credibility to it, so they cannot but raise a most serious apprehension of it in those who will attend to them. It has been now observed, that such and such mise- ries naturally follow such and such actions of imprudence and wilfulness, as well as actions more commonly and more distinctly considered as vicious; and that these consequences, when they may be foreseen, are properly natural punishments annexed to such actions. For the general thing here insisted upon, is, not that we see a great deal of misery in the world, but a great deal which men bring upon themselves by their own behaviour, which they might have foreseen and avoided. Now the circumstances of these natural punishments, particularly deserving our attention, are such as these ; That often- times they follow, or are inflicted in consequence of, ac- tions which procure many present advantages, and are OSAP. II.] BY PUNISHMENTS. 79 accompanied with much present pleasure ; for instance, sickness and untimely death are the consequence of intem- perance, though accompanied with the highest mirth and jollity: that these punishments are often much greater, than the advantages or pleasures obtained by the actions, of which they are the punishments or consequences : that though we may imagine a constitution of nature, in which these natural punishments, which are in fact to follow, would follow, immediately upon such actions be- ing done, or very soon after ; we find on the contrary in our world, that they are often delayed a great while, sometimes even till long after the actions occasioning them are forgot ; so that the constitution of nature is such, that delay of punishment is no sort nor degree of pre- sumption of final impunity : that after such delay, these natural punishments or miseries often come, not by de- gree?, but suddenly, with violence, and at once ; however, the chief misery often does: that as certainty of such dis- tant misery following such actions, is never afforded per- sons ; so perhaps during the actions, they have seldom a distinct, full expectation of its following:* and many times the case is only thus, that they see in general, or may see, the credibihty, that intemperance, suppose, will bring after it diseases ; civil crimes, civil punishments ; when yet the real probability often is, that they shall escape; but things notwithstanding take their destined course, and Ihe misery inevitably follows at its appointed time, in very many of these cases. Thus also though youth may be al- leged as an excuse for rashness and folly, as being na- turally thoughtless, and not clearly foreseeing all the con- sequences of being untractable and profligate ; this does not hinder, but that these consequences follow; and are grievously felt, throughout the whole course of mature life. Habits contracted even in that age, are often utter ruin: and men's success in the world, not only in the common sense of worldly success, but their real happi- ness and misery, depends, in a great degree, and in va- rious ways, upon the manner in whicli they pass their youth ; which consequences they for the most part ne- « See Tart II. Cliap. \n. •80 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [Paw I. gleet to consider, and perhaps seldom can properly be said to believe, beforehand. It requires also to be men- tioned, that, in numberless cases, the natural course of things affords us opportunities for procuring advantages to ourselves at certain times, which we cannot procure when we will; nor ever recall the opportunities, if we have neglected them. Indeed the general course of na- ture is an example of this. If, during the opportunity ol youth, persons are indocile and self-willed; they inevita- bly suffer in their future life, for want of those acquire- ments, which they neglected the natural season of attain- ing. If the husbandman lets his seedtime pass without sowing, the whole year is lost to him beyond recovery. In like manner, though after men have been guilty of folly and extravagance up to a certain degree, it is often in their power, for instance, to retrieve their affairs, to recov- er their health and character; at least in good measure; yet real reformation is in many cases, of no avail at all to- wards preventing the miseries, poverty, sickness, in- famy, naturally annexed to folly and extravagance exceed- ing that degree. There is a certain bound to imprudence and misbehaviour, which being transgressed, there re- mains no place for repentance in the natural course of things. It is further very much to be remarked, that neglects from inconsiderateness, want of attention,* not looking about us to see what we have to do, are often at- tended with consequences altogether as dreadful, as any active misbehaviour, from the most extravagant passion. And lastly, civil government being natural, the punish- ments of it are so too : and some of these punishments are capital ; as the effects of a dissolute course of pleasure are often mortal. So that many natural punishments are final t to him who incurs them, if considered only in his *Part n. Chap. vi. •{• The general consideration of a future state of punishment, most evidently be- longs to the subject of natural Rfligion. But if any of these reflections should be thoiiijlit lo relate more peculiarly to this doctrine, as taught in Scripture ; the read- er is desired to observe, that CictiLile writers, bolli moralists and poets, speak of the fut\jre puiiishtru nt of the wickt'd, lx)th as to the duration and degree of it, in a like maiiiicr of expression and of tiescriiiiion, as tiie Scripture does. So that all which CUM jjosiiively be asscrtf'd lo be niatter of mere Revelation, with regard to this doc- trine, seems to be, tliat the great distinction between the righteous and the wicked, shall be made at tlie end of LhU workl ; that e ich shall UiCTt receive according to hia Chap. IL] BY PUNISHMENTS. 81 temporal capacity: and seem inflicted by natural ap- pointment, either to remove the offender out of the way of being further mischievous ; or as an example, though frequently a disregarded one, to those who are left be- hind. These things are not what we call accidental, or to be met with only now and then ; but they are things of every day's experience: they proceed from general laws, very general ones, by which God governs the world, in the natural course of his providence. And they are so analogous, to what Religion teaches us concern- ing the future punishment of the wicked, so much of a piece with it, that both would naturally be expressed in the very same words, and manner of description. In the book of Proverbs * for instance, Wisdom is intro- duced, as frequenting the most pubhc places of resort, and as rejected when she offers herself as the natural appoint- ed guide of human life. How long, speaking to those who are passing through it, how long, ye simple ones, loillye love Jolly, and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge ? Turn ye at my reproof. Behold, I will pour out my spirit upon you, I will make know7i my ivords unto you. But upon being neglected. Because I have culled, and ye refused, I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel^ and would none of my reproof : I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your J ear comet h ; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; ichen distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon, me, but I will not answer ; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me. This pas- sage, every one sees, is poetical, and some parts of it are highly figurative ; but their meaning is obvious. And deserts. Reason did, as it well niiglit, conclude tlmt it sliotild, finally and upon the whoh', be well with the riplurous, am! ill witli the wickrd : but it could iM)t be determined njion nny [irinciples of nnson, whether huniiin rnntnres niiglit not l«ive been npjKjinled to pnss Ihronph otlu r sinles of life nml Ix'inp, Ix-fore ihjit distri- butive justice shovilil finally ami tlVrclually tjike place. l{«'velalion tenclirs us, tlmt tlie next stair of Ihinjvs ntler the pnsrnt is appointed for tlie exrculion of this justice ; that it shall be no lon<:er ilelayetl ; but (In- i)iys(»rif af (iml, the pn at niystny of hii ^Ulre^in;; vicr ami confusion to prevail, shall tlivn ht- Jinixhni ; nnd lie will taAt iu/im hit grcnt power ami will rei^n by remlering to every one ncconling tu his works. * Chap. i. F 82 GOVERNMENT OF GOD BY PUNISHMENTS. [Part!, the thing intended is expressed more literally in the fol- lowing words; For that they hated knowledge^ and did not choose the fear of the Lord therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own loay, and be filled with their own de- vices. For the security of the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them. And the whole passage is so equally applicable to what w^e experience in the present world, concerning the consequences of men's actions, and to what Religion teaches us is to be expected in another, that it may be questioned which of the two was principally intended. Indeed when one has been recollecting the proper ■ proofs of a future state of rewards and punishments, no- thing methinks can give one so sensible an apprehen- sion of the latter, or representation of it to the mind; as*- observing, that after the many disregarded checks, ad- monitions, and warnings, which people meet with in the ' ways of vice and folly and extravagance: warnings from their very nature; from the examples of others; from the lesser inconveniences which they bring upon themselves;, from the instructions of wise and virtuous men: after these have been long despised, scorned, rMiculed: after the chief bad consequences, temporal consequences, of' their folHes, have been delayed for a great while; at length they break in irresistibly, like an armed force: re- pentance is too late to relieve, and can serve only to ag- gravate their distress, the case is become desperate: and poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, infamy and> death, the effects of their own doings, overwhelm them beyond possibihty of remedy or escape. This is an account of what is in fact the general constitution of na- ture. It is not in any sort meant, that, according to what ap- pears at present of the natural course of things, men are always uniformly punished in proportion to their misbe- haviour: but that there are very many instances of mis- behaviour punished in the several ways now mentioned^ and very dreadful instances too; sufficient to show what the laws of the miiverse may admit; and, if thoroughly considered, sufficient fully to answer all objections against the credibility of a future st?>Xe of punishments, from any Chip. IJT.] OF THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 83 imaginations, that the frailty of our nature and external temptations, almost annihilate the guilt of human vices: as well as objections of another sort; from necessity; from suppositions, that the will of an infinite Being can- not be contradicted ; or that he must be incapable of of- fence and provocation.* Reflections of this kind are not without their terrors to serious persons, the most free from enthusiasm, and of the greatest strength of mind; but it is fit things be stated and considered as they really are. And there is, in the present age, a certain fearlessness, with regard to what may be hereafter under the government of God, which nothing but an universally acknowledged demon- stration on the side of atheism can justify; and which makes it quite necessary, that men be reminded, and if possible made to feel, 'that there is no sort of ground for being thus presumptuous, even upon the most sceptical principles. For, may it not be said of any person upon his being born into the world, he may behave so, as to be of no service to it, but by being made an example of the woeful effect^ of vice and folly? That he may, as any one may, if he will, incur an infamous execution, from the hands of civil justice; or in some other course of extravagance shorten his days; or bring upon himself infamy and diseases worse than death? So that it had been better for him, even with regard to the present world, that he had never been born. And is there any pretence of reason, for people to think themselves secure, and talk as if they had certain proof, tluU, let them act as licentiously as they will, there can be nothing analo- gous to this, with regard to a future and more general in- terest, under the providence and government of the same God? CHAP. III. OF THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. As the manifold appearances of design and of final causes, in the constitution of the world, prove it to be the * See Chap. iv. and vi. F 2 84 OF THE MORAL f^ART I. work of an intelligent Mind ; so the particular final causes of pleasure and pain distributed amongst his crea- tures, prove that they are under his government ; what may be called his natural government of creatures endued with sense and reason. This, however, implies somewhat more than seems usually attended to, when we speak of God's natural government of the world. It implies government of the very same kind with that which a master exercises over his servants, or a civil magistrate over his subjects. These latter instances of final causes, as really prove an intelhgent Governor of the world, in the sense now mentioned, and before* distinctly treated of ; as any other instances of final causes prove an intelligent Maker of it. But this alone does not appear at first sight to de- termine any thing certainly, concerning the moral cha- racter of the Author of Nature, considered in this relation of governor ; does not ascertain his government to be moral, or prove that he is the righteous judge of the world. Moral government consists, not barely in rewarding and punishing men for their actions, whicl^the most tyranni- cal person may do : but in rewarding the righteous, and punishing the wricked: in rendering to men according to their actions, considered as good or evil. And the perfection of moral government consists in doing this, with regard to all intelligent creatures, in an exact proportion to their personal merits or demerits. Some men seem to think the only character of the Author of Nature to be that of simple absolute benevo- lence. This, considered as a principle of action and mfinite in degree, is a disposition to produce the greatest possible happiness, without regard to persons' behaviour, otherwise than a« such regard would produce higher de- grees of it. And supposing this to be the only character of God, veracity and justice in him would be nothing but benevolence conducted by wisdom. Now surelv this ought not to be asserted, unless it can be proved ; for we should speak with cautious reverence upon such a subject. And whether it can be proved or no, is not the thing here to be inquired into ; but whether in the constitution * Clinp. ii. Chap. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 85 and conduct of the world, a righteous government be not discernibly planned out: which necessarily implies a righteous governor. There may possibly be in the crea- ' don beings, to whom the Author of Nature manifests himself under this most amiable of all characters, this of infinite absolute benevolence; for it is the most ami- able, supposing it not, as perhaps it is not, incompatible with justice; but he manifests himself to us under the character of a righteous governor. He may, consistently with this, be simply and absolutely benevolent, in the sense now explained: but he is (for he has given us a proof in the constitution and conduct of the world that he is) a governor over servants, as he rewards and punishes us for our actions. And in the constitution and conduct of it, he may also have given, besides the reason of the thing, and the natural presages of conscience, clear and distinct intimations, that his government is righteous or moral: clear to such as think the nature of it deserving their attention ; and yet not to every careless person, who casts a transient reflection upon the subject.* But it is particularly to be observed, that the divine government, which we experience ourselves under in the present state, taken alone, is allowed not to be the perfec- tion of moral government. And yet this by no means hinders, but that there may be somewhat, be it more or less, truly moral in it. A righteous government may plainly appear to be carried on to some degree: enough to give us the apprehension that it shall be completed, or carried on to that degree of perfection which religion teaches us it shall; but which cannot appear, till much more of the divine administration be seen, than can in the present life. And the design of this Chapter is to incpiire how far this is the case: how far, over and above the moral nature! which God has given us, and our natural notion ♦ Tlu- oltjrcLions apiinst n ligidn, from tho rvidt ncr of it not hvlu^ nnivrrsnl, nor ■O stn»iig as luiglit |'«)ssil)ly have l)r« ii, may be ur^» il against iialunil n ligioii, as \v» 11 as agTiiiist rrvfali il. Ami tli« r» fore tlit- coiisidrnilioii of llu in l)rlonil interest, suppose, which is tin* end of sucIj self love, !)»• nl n dislnnce. So fjreatly ure profli^nte men misUiken, when liiey iifl'irm tin y are wholly pt»verned by uileresledness and self love ; uuii so little cause is there for morali>ts U» disolalm tilis principle.— See p. 108. 124 OF A STATE OF [P^rt I. acquired habits of virtue and self-government may be necessary for the regulation of them. However, though we were not distinctly to take in this supposition, but to speak only in general ; the thing really comes to the same. For habits of virtue, thus acquired by disciphne, are improvement in virtue : and improvement in virtue must be advancement in happiness, if the government of the universe be moral From these things we may observe, and it will further show this our natural and original need of being improv- ed by discipline, how it comes to pass, that creatures made upright fall; and that those who preserve their uprightness, by so doing, raise themselves to a more secure state of virtue. To say that the former is account- ed for by the nature of liberty, is to say no more, than that an event's actually happening is accounted for by a mere possibility of its happening. But it seems distinct- ly conceivable from the very nature of particular affec- tions or propensions. For, suppose creatures intended for such a particular state of life, for which such propen- sions were necessary: suppose them endued with such propensions, together with moral understanding, as well including a practical sense of virtue as a speculative per- ception of it ; and that all these several principles, both natural and moral, forming an inward constitution of mind, were in the most exact proportion possible ; i. e. in a proportion tlie most exactly adapted to their intend- ed state of life ; such creatures would be made upright, or finitely perfect. Now particular propensions, from their very nature, must be felt, the objects of them being present ; though they cannot be gratified at all, or not with the allowance of the moral principle. But if they can be gratified without its allowance, or by contradict- ing it ; then they must be conceived to have some tend- ency, in how low a degree soever, yet some tendency, to induce persons to such forbidden gratification. This tendency, in som.e one particular propension, may be in* creased, by the greater frequency of occasions naturally exciting it, than of occasions exciting others. The least voluntary indulgence in forbidden circumstances, though but 111 thought, will increase this wrong tendency; and may Chap, v.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 125 increase it further, till, peculiar conjunctures perhaps c( nspiring, it becomes effect ; and danger of deviating from right, ends in actual deviation from it ; a danger necessarily arising from the very nature of propension ; and which therefore could not have been prevented, though it might have been escaped, or got innocently through. The case would be, as if we were to suppose a straight path marked out for a person, in which such a degree of attention would keep him steady : but if he would not attend in this degree, any one of a thousand objects, catching his eye, might lead him out of it. Now it is impossible to say, how much even the first full overt act of irregularity might disorder the inward constitution; unsettle the adjustments, and alter the proportions, which formed it, and in which the uprightness of its make con- sisted: but repetition of irregularities would produce habits. And thus the constitution would be spoiled ; and creatures made upright, become corrupt and depraved in their settled character, proportionably to their repeated irregularities in occasional acts. But, on the contrary, these creatures Bright have improved and raised them- selves, to a higher and more secure state of virtue, by the contrary behaviour: by steadily following the moral principle, supposed to be one part of their nature : and thus withstanding that unavoidable danger of defection, which necessarily arose from propension, the other part of it. For, by thus preserving their integrity for some time, their danger would lessen ; since propensions, by being inured to submit, would do it more easily and of course : and their security against this lessening danger would increase ; since the moral principle would gain additional strength by exercise : both which things are implied in the notion of virtuous habits. Thus then vi- cious indulgence is not only criminal in itself, but also depraves the inward constitution and character. And vir- tuous self-government is not only right in itself, but also improves the inward constitution or character : and may improve it to such a degree, that though we should sup- pose it impossible for particular affections to be absolute- ly coincident with the moral principle ; and consequent- ly should allow, that such creatures as have been above 126 OF A STATE OF [Part I. supposed, would for ever remain defectible; yet their danger of actually deviating from right may be almost infinitely lessened, and they fully fortified against what remains of it ; if that may be called danger, against which there is an adequate, effectual security. But still, this their higher perfection may continue to consist in habits of virtue formed in a state of discipline, and this their more complete security remain to proceed from them. And thus it is plainly conceivable, that creatures without blemish, as they came out of the hands of God, may be in danger of going wrong ; and so may stand in need of the security of virtuous habits, additional to the moral principle wrought into their natures by him. That which is the ground of their danger, or their want of security, may be considered as a deficiency in them, to which vir- tuous habits are the natural supply. And as they are naturally capable of being raised and improved by dis- cipline, it may be a thmg fit and requisite, that they should be placed in circumstances with an eye to it : in circumstances peculiarly fitted to be to them a state of discipline for their improvement in virtue. But how much more strongly must this hold with re- spect to those who have corrupted their natures, are fallen from their original rectitude, and whose passions are become excessive by repeated violations of their in- ward constitution P Upright creatures may want to . be improved: depraved creatures want to be renewed. Education and discipline, which may be in all degrees and sorts of gentleness and of severity, are expedient for those : but must be absolutely necessary fur these. For these, discipline of the severer sort too, and in the high- er degrees of it, must be necessary, in order to wear out vicious habits; to recover their primitive strength of self- government, which indulgence must have weakened ; to repair, as well as raise into a habit, the moral principle, in order to their arriving at a secure state of virtuous happiness. Now, whoever will consider the thing may clearly see, that the present world is peculiarly jit to be a state of discipline for this pnr[)ose, to such as will set themselves to mend and improve. For, the various temptations with I Chap V.J MORAL DISCIPLINE. l27 which we are surrounded ; our experience of the deceits of wickedness ; having been in many instances led wrong ourselves ; the great viciousness of the world ; the infinite disorders consequent upon it ; our being made acquaint- ed with pain and sorrow, either from our own feeling of it, or from the sight of it in others ; these things, though some of them may indeed produce wrong effects upon our minds, yet when duly reflected upon, have, all of them, a direct tendency to bring us to a settled modera- tion and reasonableness of temper : the contrary both to thoughtless levity, and also to that unrestrained self-will, and violent bent to follow present inclina- tion, which may be observed in undisciplined minds. Such experience, as the present state affords, of the frailty of our nature ; of the boundless extravagance of ungoverned passion ; of the power which an infinite Being has over us, by the various capacities of miserv which he has given us ; in short, that kind and degree of experience, which the present state affords us, that the constitution of nature is such as to admit the possi- bility, the danger, and the actual event, of creatures los- ing their innocence and happmess, and becoming vicious and wretched ; hath a tendency to give us a practical sense of things very different from a mere speculative knowledge, that we are liable to vice, and capable of misery. And who knows, whether the security of crea- tures in the highest and most settled state of perfection, may not in part arise, from their having had such a sense of things as this, formed, and habitually fixed within them, in some state of probation. And passing through the present world with that moral attention, which is neces- ' sary to the acting a right part in it, may leave everlast- ing impressions of this sort upon our minds. But to be a little more distinct: allurements to what is wrong; difhculties in the discharge of our duty ; our not being able to act a uniform rijiht part without some thought anil care; and the opportunities which we have, or imagine we have, of avoiding what we dislike, or obtaining what we desire, by unlawhil means, when we either cannot do it at all, or at least not so easily, by lawful ones; these things, i, e. the snares and temptations of vice, are 128 OF A STATE OF [Part 1. what render the present world pecuharly fit to be a state of discipline, to those who will preserve their integrity : because they render being upon our guard, resolution, and the denial of our passions, necessary in order to that end. And the exercise of such particular recollection, intention of mind, and self-government, in the practice of virtue, has, from the make of our nature, a peculiar tendency to form habits of virtue ; as implying, not only a real, but also a more continued, and a more intense exercise of the virtuous principle ; or a more constant and a stronger effort of virtue exerted into act. Thus suppose a person to know himself to be in particular danger, for some time, of doing any thing wrong, which yet he fully resolves not to do : continued recollection, and keeping upon his guard, in order to make good his resolution, is a continued exerting of that act of virtue in a high degree, which need have been, and perhaps would have been, only instantaneous and weak, had the tempta- tion been so. It is indeed ridiculous to assert, that self- denial is essential to virtue and piety : but it would have been nearer the truth, though not strictly the truth itself, to have said, that it is essential to discipline and improve- ment. For though actions materially virtuous, which have no "sort of difficulty, but are perfectly agreeable to our particular inclinations, may possibly be done only from these particular inclinations, and so may not be any exercise of the principle of virtue, i. e, not be virtuous actions at all ; yet, on the contrary, they may be an ex- ercise of that principle : and when they are, they have a tendency to form and fix the habit of virtue. But when the exercise of the virtuous principle is more continued, oftener repeated, and more intense ; as it must be in cir- cumstances of danger, temptation, and difficulty, of any kind and in any degree ; this tendency is increased pro- portionably, and a more confirmed habit is the conse- quence. This undoubtedly holds to a certain length : but how far it may hold, I know not. Neither our intellectual powers, nor our bodily strength can be improved beyond such a degree : and both may be over-wrought. Possi- • bly there may be somewhat analogous to this, with re- OiAP. v.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 129 ■spect to the moral character ; \Yhich is scarce worth con- sidering. And I mention it only, lest it should come into some persons' thoughts, not as an exception to the foregoing observations, which perhaps it is ; but as a confutation of them, which it is not. And there may be several other exceptions. Observations of this kind can- not be supposed to hold minutely, and in every case. It is enough that they hold in general. And these plainly hold so far, as that from them may be seen distinctly, which is all that is intended by them, that the present world is peculiarly jit to be a state of discipline, for our improvement in virtue and piety : in the same sense as some sciences, by requiring and engaging the attention, not to be sure of such persons as will not, but of such as will, set themselves to them ; are fit to form the mind to habits of attention. Indeed the present state is so far from proving, in event, a discipline of virtue to the generality of men, that, on the contrary, they seem to make it a discipline of vice. And the viciousness of the world is, in different ways, the great temptation which renders it a state of virtuous discipline, in the degree it is, to good men. The whole end, and the whole occasion, of mankind's being placed in such a state as the present, is not pretended to be ac- counted for. That which appears amidst the general cor- ruption, is, that there are some persons, who, having within them the principle of amendment and recovery, at- tend to and follow the notices of virtue and religion, be they more clear or more obscure which are afforded them; and that the present world is, not only an exercise of vir- tue in these persons, but an exercise of it in ways and degrees, peculiarly apt to improve it: apt to improve it, in some respects, even beyond what would be, by the ex- ercise of it, required in a perfectly virtuous society, or in a society of equally imperfect virtue witii themselves. But that the present world docs not actually become a state of moral discipline to many, even to the generality, i. e. that they do not improve or grow better in it, cannot ])e urged as a proof, that it was not intended for moral dis- cipline, by any who at all observe the analogy of nature. For, of the numerous seeds of vegetables and bodies of 1 130 OF A STATE OF [Pajup I. animals, which are adapted and put in the way, to im- prove to such a point or state of natural maturity and per- fection, we do not see perhaps that one in a million actu- ally does. Far the greatest part of them decay before they are improved to it ; and appear to be absolutely destroyed. Yet no one, who does not deny all final causes, will deny, that those seeds and bodies, which do attain to that point of maturity and perfection, answer the end for which they were really designed by nature; and therefore that nature designed them for such perfec- tion. And I cannot forbear adding, though it is not to the present purpose, that the appearance of such an amazing waste in nature, with respect to these seeds and bodies, by foreign causes, is to us as unaccountable, as, what is much more terrible, the present and future ruin of so many moral agents by themselves, i, e. by vice. Against this whole notion of moral discipline, it may be objected, in another way ; that so far as a course of behaviour, materially virtuous, proceeds from hope and fear, so far it is only a discipline and strengthening of self-love. But doing what God commands, because he commands it, is obedience, though it proceeds from hope or fear. And a course of such obedience will form habits of it. And a constant regard to veracity, justice, and charity, may form distinct habits of these particular virtues ; and will certainly form habits of self-govern- ment, and of denying our inclinations, whenever veracity, justice, or charity requires it. Nor is there any founda- tion for this great nicety, with which some affect to dis- tinguish in this case, in order to depreciate all Religion proceeding from hope or fear. For, veracity, justice, and charity, regard to God's authority, and to our own chiel interest, are not only all three coincident ; but each of them is, in itself, a just and natural motive or principle of action. And he who begins a good life from any one of them, and perseveres in it, as he is already in some degree, so he cannot fail of becoming more and more, of that character which is correspondent to the constitution of nature as moral ; and to the relation which God stands in to us as moral governor of it : nor consequent- ly can he fail of obtaining that happiness, which this con- Chap, v.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 131 stitution and relation necessarily suppose connected with that character. These several observations, concerning the active principle of virtue and obedience to God's commands, are applicable to passive submission or resignation to his will : which is another essential part of a right character, connected with the former, and very much in our power to form ourselves to. It may be imagined, that nothing but afflictions can give occasion for or require this vir- tue ; that it can have no respect to, nor be any way ne- cessary to qualify for, a state of perfect happiness : but it is not experience which can make us think thus. Prosperity itself, whilst any thing supposed desirable is not ours, begets extravagant and unbounded thoughts. Imagination is altogether as much a source of discontent, as any thing in our external condition. It is indeed true, that there can be no scope for patience, when sorrow shall be no more; but there may be need of a temper of mind, which shall have been formed by patience. For, though self-love, considered merely as an active prin- ciple leading us to pursue our chief interest, cannot but be uniformly coincident with the principle of obedience to God's commands, our interest being rightly understood ; because this obedience, and the pursuit of our own chief interest, must be in every case one and the same thing: yet it may be questioned, whether self-love, considered merely as the desire of our own interest or happiness, can, from its nature, be thus absolutely and uniformly coincident with the will of God; anymore than particu- lar affections can :* coincident in such sort, as not to be liable to be excited upon occasions and in degrees, im- possible to be gratified consistently with the constitution of things, or the divme appointments. So that habits of resignation may, upon this account, be requisite for all creatures : ha])its, I say ; which signify what is formed by use. However, in general it is obvious that both self-love and particular affection in human creatures con- sidered only as passive feelings, distort and rend the mind ; and tllferefore stand in need of discipline. Now denial of those particular affections, in a course of active * p. 12JJ. 12 132 OF A STATE OF [Part L virtu 3 and obedience to God's will, has a tendency to moderate ihcm ; and seems also to have a tendency to habituate the mind, to be easy and satisfied with that degree of happiness which is allotted us, i. e. to moderate self-love. But the proper discipline for resignation is affliction. For a right behaviour under that trial ; recol- lecting ourselves so as to consider it in the view, in which Religion teaches us to consider it, as from the hand of God ; receiving it as what he appoints, or thinks proper to permit, in his world and under his government; this will habituate the mind to a dutiful submission. And such submission, together with the active principle of obedience, make up the temper and character in us, which answers to his sovereignty ; and which absolutely belongs to the condition of our being, as dependent crea- tures. Nor can it be said, that this is only breaking the mind to a submission to mere power; for mere power may be accidental, and precarious, and usurped : but it is forming within ourselves the temper of resignation to his rightful authority, who is, by nature, supreme over all. Upon the v/hole : such a character, and such qualifi- cations, are necessary for a mature state of life in the present world, as nature alone does in no wise bestow; but has put it upon us, in great part, to acquire, in our progress from one stage of life to another, from child- hood to mature age ; put it upon us to acquire them, by giving us capacities of doing it, and by placing us, in the beginning of life, in a condition fit for it. And this is a general analogy to our condition in the present world, as in a state of moral discipline for another. It is in vain then to object against the credibility of the present life's being intended for this purpose, that all the trouble and the danger unavoidably accompanying such discipline, might have been saved us, by our being made at once the creatures and the characters, which we vjcre to be. For we experience, that what v)e were to be, was to be the effect of what we would do: and that the general conduct of nature is, not to save us trouble or Jbnger, but to make us capable of going through them, and to put it upon us to do so. Acquirements of our own, experience CuAP. V.l TrTOT^AL DISCIPII^TE 133 and habits, are the national supply to our deficiencies, and security against our dangers : since it is as plainly natu- ral to set ourselves to at ;o aire the qualifications, as the external things, which we stand in need of. In particu- lar, it is as plairdy a general law of nature, that we should with regard to our temporal interest, form and cultivate practical principles within us, by attention, use, and dis- ciphne, as any thing whatever is a natural law; chiefly in the beginning of life, but also throughout the whole course of it. And the alternative is left to our choice : either to improve ourselves, and better our condition ; or, in default of such improvement, to remain deficient and wretched. It is therefore perfectly credible, from the analogy of nature, that the same may be our case, with respect to the happiness of a future state, and the qualifi- cations necessary for it. There is a third thing, which may seem implied in the present world's being a state of probation ; that it is a theatre of action, for the manifestation of persons* cha- racters, with respect to a future one : not, to be sure, to an all-knowing Being, but to his creation or part of it. This may, perhaps, be only a consequence of our being in a state of probation in the other senses. However, it is not impossible, that men's showing and making mani- fest, what is in their heart, what their real character is, may have respect to a future life, in ways and manners which we are not acquainted with: particularly it may be a means, for the Author of Nature does not appear to do any thing without means, of their being disposed of suitably to their characters; and of its being known to the creation, by way of example, that they are thus dis- posed of. But not to enter u[ on any conjectural account of this; one may just mention, that the manifestation of persons' characters contributes very much, in various ways, to the carrying on a ureat part of that general course of nature, respecting mankind, which comes under our observation at present. I shall only add, that pro- bation, in both these senses, as well as in that treated of m the foregoing chapter, is implied in moral government ; since by persons' behaviour under it, their characters can- not but be manifested, and if tl.ey b ehave well, improved. 134 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [Part T. CHAP. VI. OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, CONSIDERED AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. Throughout the foregoing Treatise it appears, that the condition of mankind, considered as inhabitants of this world only, and under the government of God which we experience, is greatly analogous to our condition, as de- signed for another world, or under that farther govern- ment, which Religion teaches us. If therefore any assert, as a Fatalist must, that the opinion of universal Necessity is reconcilable with the former; there immediately arises a question in the way of analogy, whether he must not also own it to be reconcilable with the latter, z. e. with the system of Religion itself, and the proof of it. The reader then will observe, that the question now before us is not absolute. Whether the opinion of Fate be recon- cilable with Religion ; but hypothetical, whether, upon supposition of its being reconcilable with the constitu- tion of Nature, it be not reconcilable with Religion also: or, what pretence a Fatalist, not other persons, but a Fatalist, has to conclude from his opinion, that there can be no such thing as Religion. And as the puzzle and obscurity, which must unavoidably arise from arguing upon so absurd a supposition as that of universal Neces- sity, will, I fear, easily be seen ; it will, I hope, as easily be excused. But since it has been all along taken for granted, as a thing proved, that there is an intelligent AiJthor of Na- ture, or natural Governor of the world ; and since an objection may be made against the proof of this, from the opinion of universal Necessity, as it may be supposed, that such Necessity will itself account for the origin and preservation of all things : it is requisite, that this objec- tion be distinctly answered; or that it be shown, that a Fatality supposed consistent with what we certainly ex- perience, does not destroy the proof of an intelligent Author and Governor of Nature; before we proceed to Chap. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 135 consider, whetlier it destroys the proof of a moral Governor of it, or of our being in a state of Religion. Now, when it is said by a Fatalist, that the whole con- stitution of Nature, and the actions of men, that every thing, and every mode and circumstance of every thing, IS necessary, and could not possibly have been otherwise; it is to be observed, that this Necessity does not exclude deliberation, choice, preference, and acting from certain principles, and to certain ends: because all this is mat- ter of undoubted experience, acknowledged by all, and what every man may, every moment, be conscious of. And from hence it follows, that Necessity, alone and of itself, is in no sort an account of the constitution of Na- ture, and how things came to he and to contiime as they are; but only an account of this circumstance relating to their origin and continuance, that they could not have been otherwise, than thev are and have been. The as- sertion, that every thing is by Necessity of Nature, is not an answer to the question ; Whether the world came into being as it is, by an intelligent Agent forming it thus, or not : but to quite another question ; Whether it came into being as it is, in that way and manner which we call necessarily, or in that way and manner which we call freely. For suppose farther, that one who was a Fata- list, and one who kept to his natural sense of things, and believed himself a Free Agent, were disputing toge- ther, and vindicating their respective opinions; and they should happen to instance in a house : they would agree that it was built by an architect. Their difference con- cerning Necessity and Freedom would occasion no dif- ference of judgment concerning this; but only concerning another matter ; whether the architect built it necessa- rily or freely. Suj)p()se then they should proceed to in- quire concerning the constitution of nature: in a lax way of speakinij:, one of them might say, it was by Ne- cessity; and the other, by Freedom : but if they had any meaning to their words, as the latter must mean a Free Agent, so the former must at length be n dnced to mean an Agent, whether he would sav one or more, acting by Necessity: for abstract notions can do nothing. Indeed we ascribe to Ciod a nt^cobhary existence, uncaused by 1 36 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PartI. any agent. For we find within ourselves the idea of infinity, i. e. immensity and eternity, impossible, even in imagination, to be removed out of being. We seem to discern intuitively, that there must, and cannot bat be, somewhat, external to ourselves, answering this idea, or the archetype of it. And from hence (for this abstract,. as much as any other, implies a concrete) we conclude, that there is, and cannot but be, an infinite and immense eternal Being existing, prior to all design contributing to his existence, and exclusive of it. And from the scan- tiness of language, a manner of speaking has been intro- duced ; that Necessity is the foundation, the reason, the- account of the existence of God. But it is not alleged, nor can it be at all intended, that every thing exists as it does, by this kind of Necessity; a Necessity antecedent in nature to design : it cannot, I say, be meant that every thing exists as it does, by this kind of Necessity, upon several accounts ; and particularly because it is admitted, that design, in the actions of men, contributes to many alterations in nature. For if any deny this, I shall not pretend to reason with them. From these things it follows ; First, That when a Fa- talist asserts, that every thing is by Necessity, he must mean, by an Agent acting necessarily ; he must, I say, mean this, for I am very sensible he would not choose to mean il : and Secondly, That the Necessity, by which such an Agent is supposed to act, does not exclude intelhgence and design. So that, were the system of Fatality admit- ted, it would just as much account for the formation of the world, as for the structure of a house, and no more.. Necessity as much requires and supposes a Necessary Agent, as Freedom requires and supposes a Free Agent, to be the former of the world. And the appearances of design and of final causes in the constitution of nature as really prove this acting Agent to be an intelligent designer, or to act from choice; upon the scheme of Necessity, supposed possible, as upon that of Freedom. It appearing thus, that the notion of Necessity does not destroy the proof, that there is an intelligent Author- of Nature and natural Governor of the world ; the pre- sent question, which the analogy before mentioned sus;- Chap. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 137 gests,* and which, T think, it will answer, is this: Whether the opinion of Necessity, supposed consistent with possi- bility, with the constitution of the world, and the natural government which we experience exercised over it, de- stroys all reasonable ground of belief, that we are in a state of Religion : or whether that opinion be reconcil- able with Religion ; with the system, and the proof of it. Suppose then a Fatalist to educate any one, from his youth up, in his own principles; that the child should reason upon them, and conclude, that since he cannot possibly behave otherwise than he does, he is not a sub- ject of blame or commendation, nor can deserve to be rewarded or punished : imagine him to eradicate the very perceptions of blame and commendation out of his mind, by means of this system ; to form his temper, and cha- racter, and behaviour to it ; and from it to judge of the treatment he was to expect, say, from reasonable men, upon his coming abroad into the world : as the Fatalist iudges from this system, what he is to expect from the Author of Nature, and with regard to a future state. I cannot forbear stopping here to ask, whether any one of common sense would think fit, that a child should be put upon these speculations, and be left to apply them to practice. And a man has little pretence to reason, who is not sensible, that we are all children in speculations of this kind. However, the child would doubtless be highly delighted to find himself freed from the restraints of fear and shame, with which his play-fellows were fetter- ed and embarrassed; and highly conceited in his supe- rior knowledge, so far beyond his years. But conceit and vanity would be the least bad part of the influence, which these principles must have, when thus reasoned and acted upon, during the course of his education. He must either be allowed to go on and be the plague of all about him, and himself too, even to his own destruction : or else correction must be continually made use of, to supply the want of those natural perceptions of blame and commendation, which we have supposed to be re- moved ; and to give him a practical impression, of what he had reasoned himself out of the belief of, that he was • r. lai. 138 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [Part I. in fact an accountable child, and to be punished for doing what he was forbid. It is therefore in reality im- possible, but that the correction which he must meet with, in the course of his education, must convince him, that if the scheme he was instructed in were not false ; yet that he reasoned inconclusively upon it, and some- how or other misapphed it to practice and common Hfe ; as what the Fatahst experiences of the conduct of Pro- vidence at present, ought in all reason to convince him, that this scheme is misapphed, when applied to the sub- ject of Religion.* But supposing the child's temper could remain still formed to the system, and his expec- tation of the treatment he was to have in the world be regulated by it ; so as to expect that no reasonable man would blame or punish him, for any thing which he should do, because he could not help doing it : upon this supposition it is manifest he would, upon his coming abroad into the world, be insupportable to society, and the treatment which he would receive from it would render it so to him ; and he could not fail of doing some- what, very soon, for which he would be delivered over into the hands of civil justice. And thus, in the end, he would be convinced of the obligations he was under to his wise instructor. Or suppose this scheme of Fatality, in any other way, applied to practice, such practical ap- plication of it will be found equally absurd; equally falla- cious in a practical sense: for instance, that if a man be destined to live such a time, he shall live to it, though he take no care of his own preservation; or if he be destined to die before that time, no care can prevent it: therefore all care about preserving one's life is to be neglected: which is the fallacy instanced in by the ancients. But now, on the contrary, none of these prac- tical absurdities can be drawn from reasoning, upon the supposition that we are free ; but all such reasoning with regard to the common affairs of life is justified by expe- rience. And therefore, though it were admitted that this opinion of Necessity were speculatively true; yet, with rcL^ard to oractice, it is as if it were false, so far as our experience reaches : that is, to the whole of our present Chap. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 139 life. For, the constitution of the present world, and the condition in which we are actually placed, is, as if we were free. And it may perhaps justly be concluded, that since the whole process of action, through every step of it, suspense, deliberation, inclining one way, determining, and at last doing as we determine, is as if we were free, therefore we are so. But the thing here insisted upon is, that under the present natural government of the world, we find we are treated and dealt with, as if we were free, prior to all consideration whether we are or not. Were this opinion therefore of Necessity admitted to be ever so true ; yet such is in fact our condition and the natural course of things, that whenever we apply it to Hfe and practice, this application of it always misleads us, and cannot but mislead us, in a most dreadful manner, with regard to our present interest. And how can people think themselves so very secure then, that the same apphcation of the same opinion may not mislead them also, in some analogous manner, with respect to a future, a more general, and more important interest? For, Religion being a practical subject; and the analogy of nature showing us, that we have not faculties to apply this opinion, were it a true one, to practical subjects; whenever we do apply it to the subject of Religion, and thence conclude, that we are free from its obligations, it is plain this conclusion cannot be depended upon. There will still remain just reason to think, whatever appear- ances are, that we deceive ourselves; in somewhat of a like manner, as when people fancy they can draw con- tradictory conclusions from the idea of infinity. From these things together, the attentive reader will see it follows, that if upon supposition of Freedom the evidence of Religion be conclusive^ it remains so, upon supposition of Necessity, because the notion of Necessity is not apj)licable to practical subjects: i.c, with respect to them, is as if it were not true. Nor does this contain any reflection upon reason, but only upon what is un- reasonable. For to pretend to act uj)on reason, in oppo- sition to practical princijjles, which the Autiior of our na- ture gave us to act upon; and to prctenvl to apply our reason to subjects, with regard to wliirh, our own short 140 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [Part I. views, and even our experience, will show us, it cannot be depended upon ; and such, at best, the subject of Neces- sity must be; this is vanity, conceit, and unreasonableness. But this is not all. For we find within ourselves a will, and are conscious of a character. Now if this, in us, be reconcilable with Fate, it is reconcilable with it, in the Author of Nature. And besides, natural govern- ment and final causes imply a character and a will in the Governor and Designer;* a will concerning the creatures whom he governs. The Author of Nature then being certainly of some character or other, notwithstanding Necessity; it is evident this Necessity is as reconcilable with the particular character of benevolence, veracity, and justice, in him, which attributes are the foundation of Religion, as with any other character : since we find this Necessity no more hinders men from being benevolent, than cruel ; true, than faithless ; just, than unjust ; or, if the Fatalist pleases, what we call unjust. For it is said indeed, that what, upon supposition of Freedom, would be just punishment ; upon supposition of Necessity, be- comes manifestly unjust: because it is punishment in- flicted for doing that which persons could not avoid- doing. As if the Necessity, which is supposed to de- stroy the injustice of murder, for instance, would not also destroy the injustice of punishing it. However, as little to the purpose as this objection is- in itself, it is very much to the purpose to observe from it, how the notions of justice and injustice remain, even whilst we endeavour to suppose them removed ; how they force themselves upon the mind, even whilst we are making suppositions destructive of them: for there is not, perhaps, a man in the world, but would be ready to make this objection at first thought. But though it is most evident, that universal Neces- sity, if it be reconcilable with any thing, is reconcilable with that character in the Author of Nature, which is the foundation of Religion; "Yet, does it not plainly destroy the proof, that he is of that character, and consequently ♦ Tiy vjili and character is mrnnt that which, in *.p<'akinp^ of mm, we should ex- jirfss, noL only by Lh»'se words, l)ut also l)y the words fen-prr, (astc,(/ispositioHS, prac- iirul principles : that u'holf^ frame of mind, from whence we act in one manner rather than another. Chap. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 141 the proof of Religion ?" By no means. For we find, that happiness and misery are not our fate, in any such sense as not to be the consequences of our behaviour ; but that they are the consequences of it* We find God exer- cises the same kind of government over us, with that which a father exercises over his children, and a civil magistrate over his subjects. Now, whatever becomes of abstract questions concerning Liberty and Necessity, it evidently appears to us, that veracity and justice must be the natural rule and measure of exercising this autho- rity or government, to a Being who can have no compe- titions, or interfering of interests, with his creatures and his subjects. But as the doctrine of Liberty, though we experience its truth, may be perplexed with difficulties, which run up into the most abstruse of all speculations ; and as the opinion of Necessity seems to be the very basis upon which infidelity grounds itself ; it may be of some use to offer a more particular proof of the obligations of Religion, which may distinctly be shown not to be de- stroyed by this opinion. The proof from final causes of an intelligent Author of Nature is not affected by the opinion of Necessity ; supposing Necessity a thing possible in itself, and recon- cilable with the constitution of things.t And it is a mat- ter of fact, independent on this or any other speculation, that he governs the world by the method of rewards and punishments :t and also that he hath given us a moral faculty, by which we distinguish between actions, and approve some as virtuous and of good desert, and disap- prove others as vicious and of ill desert.§ Now this moral discernment implies, in the notion of it, a rule of action, and a rule of a very peculiar kind : for it carries in it authority and a right of direction ; authority in such a sense, as that we cannot depart from it without being self-condemned. II And that the dictates of this moral faculty, which are by nature a rule to us, are moreover the laws of God, laws in a sense including sanctions ; may be thus proved. Consciousness of a rule or guide of * Cluip. ». t P- 134, kc. t Chnp. u. * Dissert. II. [\ 8t rni. 2. at the liolis. ■ 142 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [Part I. action, in creatures who are capable of considering it as given them by their Maker, not only raises immediately a sense of duty, but also a sense of security in follo'wing it, and of danger in deviating from it. A direction of the Author of Nature, given to creatures capable of look- ing upon it as such, is plainly a command from him : and a command from him necessarily includes in it, at least, an implicit promise in case of obedience, or threatening in case of disobedience. But then the sense or percep- tion of good and ill desert,* which is contained in the moral discernment, renders the sanction explicit, and makes it appear, as one may say, expressed. For since his method of government is to reward and punish actions, his having annexed to some actions an insepa- rable sense of good desert, and to others of ill, this surely amounts to declaring, upon whom his punishments shall be inflicted, and his rewards be bestowed. For he must have given us this discernment and sense of things, as a presentiment of what is to be hereafter: that is, by way of information beforehand, what we are finally to expect in this w^orld. There is then most evident ground to think, that the government of God, upon the w^hole, w^ill be found to correspond to the nature which he has given us: and that, in the upshot and issue of things, happiness and misery shall, in fact and event, be made to follow virtue and vice respectively; as he has already, in so peculiar a manner, associated the ideas of them in our minds. And from hence might easily be deduced the obligations of religious worship, were it only to be considered as a means of preserving upon our minds a sense of this moral government of God, and securing our obedience to it : which yet is an extremely imperfect view" of that most important duty. Now, I say, no objection from Necessity can lie against this general proof of Religion. None against the pro- position reasoned upon, that we have such a moral faculty and discernment ; because this is a mere matter of fact, a thing of experience, that human kind is thus (s-:)nstitut- ed : none against the conclusion ; because it is imme- diate and wholly from this fact. For the conclusion, that * Dissert. II. Chap VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 143 God will finally reward the righteous and punish the wicked, is not here drawn, from its appearing to us fit* that he should ; but from its appearing, that he has told us, he loilL And this he hath certainly told us, in the promise and threatening, w^hich it hath been observed the notion of a command implies, and the sense of good and ill desert which he has given us, more distinctly ex- presses. And this reasoning from fact is confirmed, and in some degree even verified, by other facts ; by the na- tural tendencies of virtue and of vice;! and by this, that God, in the natural course of his providence, punishes vicious actions as mischievous to society ; and also vi- cious actions as such in the strictest sense. + So that the general proof of Religion is unanswerably real, even upon the wild supposition which we are arguing upon. It must likewise be observed further, that natural Re- ligion hath, besides this, an external evidence ; which the doctrine of Necessity, if it could be true, would not affect. For suppose a person, by the observations and reasoning above, or by any other, convinced of the truth of Religion ; that there is a God, who made the world, who is the moral Governor and, Judge of mankind, and will upon the whole deal with every one according to his works : I say, sup- pose a person convinced of this by reason ; but to know nothing at all of antiquity, or the present state of man- kind: it would be natural for such a one to be inquisitive, what was the history of this system of doctrine ; at what time, and in what manner, it came first into the world ; and whether it w^ere believed by any considerable part of it. And Avere he upon inquiry to find, that a parti- * Ilowevor, T am far from intrndinj^ to deny, that the will of God is drtrrinined, by wUixi is fit, by tlu' right and nasoii of thr case; tlious^li ouv cliooscs to (ltcliii«> niatlt'rs of siicli absiracl speculation, and to speak with caiiLion wlu'ii one does speak of Ltiem. Hut if it be intellioihl,. to say, that it is Jit and rmsonnble for evfry one to consult his oiru happiness, lln u fit/icss of action, or the ri^hl ami rvasun of the rase. \^ an inLeliiori|)U. uiaiuier of speakiny-. And it seems as inroiiceivable, to suppose (iod to approve oiif» coursi" of action, Or one end, preferably to anoilier, w iieh yei actina; at all trouj desig-n implii s lliat, he does, wiihouL suppo>inor somewhat prior in that ♦•nd, to be tlie prouini of the preference ; as to sup|>os<* him to discern an nl>- »tracl proposition to be true, without supposing^ sou. ewliat prior in it, to be lh«' ground of llie discernment, k doth not therefore appear, that mond right is any uu)re re- h.tive t • perception, than ubstmi't Iruih is ; or lliat it in finy more impr()i»er, to sp«-ak of the fitness and rijrhtness <»f actions and ends, as foiuiied ui Uic nature of things, than to speak of al)stract truth, as thus fouuth d. t F. X p. 88, &c. 144 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [Part I. cular person, in a late age, first of all proposed it, as a deduction of reason, and that mankind were before wholly ignorant of it ; then, though its evidence from reason would remain, there would be no additional pro- bability of its truth, from the account of its discovery. But instead of this being the fact of the case, on the contrary, he would find, what could not but afford him a very strong confirmation of its truth : First, That somewhat of this system, with more or fewer additions and alterations, hath been professed in all ages and countries, of which we have any certain information relating to this matter. Secondly, That it is certain historical fact, so far as w^e can trace things up, that this whole system of belief, that there is one God, the Creator and moral Governor of the world, and that mankind is in a state of Religion, was received in the first ages. And Thirdly, That as there is no hint or intimation in history, that this system was first reasoned out ; so there is express historical or traditional evidence, as ancient as history, that it was taught first by revelation. Now these things must be allowed to be of great weight. The first of them, general consent, shows this . system to be conformable to the common sense of mankind. The second, namely, that Religion was believed in the first ages of the world, especially as it does not appear that there were then any superstitious or false additions to it, cannot but be a further confirmation of its truth. For it is a proof of this alternative : either that it came into the world by revelation ; or that it is natural, obvious, and forces itself upon the mind. The former of these is the conclusion of learned men. And whoever will consider, how unapt for speculation rude and uncultivat- ed minds are, will, perhaps from hence alone, be strongly inclined to believe it the truth. And as it is shown in the Second Part* of this Treatise, that there is nothing of such peculiar presumption against a revelation in the beginning of the world, as there is supposed to be against subsequent ones : a sceptic could not, I think, give any account, which would appear more probable even to himself, of the early pretences to revelation; than by • Chap. ii. Chap. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. ;|45 supposing some real original one, from whence they were copied. And the third thing above mentioned, that there is express historical or traditional evidence as ancient as history, of the system of Religion being taught mankind by revelation ; this must be admitted as some degree of real proof, that it was so taught. For why should not the most ancient tradition be admitted as some additional proof of a fact, against which there is no presumption ? And this proof is mentioned here, because it has its weight to show, that Religion came into the world by revelation, prior to all consideration of the proper authority of any book supposed to contain it ; und even prior to all consideration, whether the reve- lation itself be uncorruptly handed down, and related, or -mixed and darkened with fables. Thus the historical account, which we have of the origin of Religion, taking in all circumstances, is a real confirmation of its truth, no way affected by the opinion of Necessity. And the external evidence, even of natural Religion, is by no means inconsiderable. But it is carefully to be observed, and ought to be recollected after all proofs of virtue and religion, which are only general ; that as speculative reason may be neglected, prejudiced, and deceived, so also may our moral understanding be impaired and perverted, and the dictates of it not impartially attended to. This indeed proves nothing against the reality of our speculative or practical faculties of perception ; against their being intended by nature, to inform us in the theory of things, and instruct us how we are to behave, and what we are to expect in consequence of our behaviour. Yet our liableness, in the degree we are liable, to prejudice and perversion, is a most serious admonition to us to be upon our guard, with respect to what is of such conse- quence, as our determinations concerning virtue and religion ; and particularly not to take custom, and fashion, and slight notions of honour, or imaginations of present ease, use, and convenience to mankind, for the only moral rule.* The foregoing observations, drawn from the nature of ♦ Dissfrt. II. K 146 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [Part I.. tlie thing, and the history of ReUgion, amount, when taken together, to a real practical proof of it, not to be confuted : such a proof as, considering the infinite im- portance of the thing, I apprehend, would be admitted fully sufficient, in reason, to influence the actions of men, who act upon thought and reflection ; if it were admitted that there is no proof of the contrary. But it may be said; "There are m any probabilities, w^hich cannot indeed be confuted, i. e. shown to be no probabilities, and yet may be overbalanced by greater probabilities on the other side ; much more by demonstration. And there is no occasion to object against particular arguments alleged for an opinion, Avhen the opinion itself maybe clearly shown to be false, without meddling with such argu- ments at all, but leaving them just as they are.* Now the method of government by rewards and punishments, and especially rewarding and punishing good and ill desert as such respectively, must go upon supposition, that we are Free and not Necessary Agents. And it is incredi- ble, that the Author of Nature should govern us upon a supposition as true, which he knows to be false ; and therefore absurd to think, he will reward or punish us for our actions hereafter ; especially that he will do it under the notion, that they are of good or ill desert." Here then the matter is brought to a point. And the answer t?o all this is full, and not to be evaded ; that the whole constitution and course of things, the whole analogy of providence, shows beyond possibility of doubt, that the conclusion from this reasoning is false ; wher- ever the fallacy lies. The doctrine of freedom indeed clearly shows where : in supposing ourselves Neces- sary, when in truth we are Free Agents. But, upon the supposition of Necessity, the fallacy lies in tak- ing for granted, that it is incredible Necessary Agents should be rewarded and punished. But that, somehow or other, the conclusion now mentioned is false, is most certain. For it is fact, that God does govern even brute creatures by the method of rewards and punishments, in the natural course of things. And men are rewarded and punished for their actions, punished for actions Chap. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 147 mischievous to society as being so, punished for vicious actions as such ; by the natural instrumentahty of each other, under the present conduct of Providence. Nay even the affection of gratitude, and the passion of resent- ment, and the rewards and punishments following from them, which in general are to be considered as natural, i. e. from the Author of Nature ; these rewards and punishments, being naturally* annexed to actions con- sidered as implying good intention and good desert, ill intention and ill desert ; these natural rewards and punishments, I say, are as much a contradiction to the conclusion above, and show its falsehood, as a m.ore exact and complete rewarding and punishing of good and ill desert as such. So that if it be incredible, that Neces- sary Agents should be thus rewarded and punished ; then, men are not necessary but free ; since it is matter of fact, that they are thus rewarded and punished. But if, on the contrary, which is the supposition we have been arguing upon, it be insisted, that men are Neces- sary Agents ; then, there is nothing incredible in the further supposition of Necessary Agents being thus rewarded and punished : since we ourselves are thus dealt w4th. From the whole therefore it must follow, that a Neces- sity supposed possible, and reconcilable with the consti- tution of things, does in no sort prove that the Author oi Nature w411 not, nor destroy the proof that he will, fi- nally and upon the whole, in his eternal government, render his creatures happy or miserable, by some means or other, as they behave well or ill. Or, to express this conclusion in words conformable to the title of the Chapter, the analogy of nature shows us, that the opinion of Necessity, considered as practical, is false. And if Necessity, upon the supposition above mentioned, doth not destroy the proof of natural Religion, it evidently makes no alteration in the proof of revealed. From these things likewise we may learn, in what sense to understand that general assertion, that the opinion of Necessity is essentially destructive of all reli- gion. First^ ia a practical sense ; that by this notion, * Serin. 8th, nt the Rolls. 148 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [Part I. atheistical men pretend to satisfy and encourage them- selves in vice, and justify to others their disregard to all religion. And secondly, in the strictest sense ; that it is a contradiction to the whole constitution of nature, and to what we may every moment experience in our- selves, and so overturns every thing. But by no means is this assertion to be understood, as if Necessity, sup- posing it could possibly be reconciled with the consti- tution of things and with what we experience, were not also reconcilable with Religion: for upon this supposi- tion, it demonstrably is so. CHAP. VII. OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, CONSIDERED AS A SCHEME OR CONSTITUTION, IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. Though it be, as it cannot but be, acknowledged, that the analogy of nature gives a strong credibility to the general doctrine of Religion, and to the several particu- lar things contained in it, considered as so many matters of fact; and likewise that it shows this credibility not to be destroyed by any notions of Necessity: yet still, ob- jections may be insisted upon, against the wisdom, equity, and goodness of the divine government implied in the notion of Religion, and against the method by which this government is conducted; to which objections analogy can be no direct answer. For the credibility, or the certain truth, of a matter of fact, does not imme- diately prove any thing concerning the wisdom or good- ness of it: and analogy can do no more, immediately or directly, than show ^uch and such things to be true or credible, considered only as matters of fact. But still, if, upon supposition of a moral constitution of nature and a moral government over it, analogy suggests and makes it credible, that this government must be a scheme, system, or constitution of government, as dis- tinguished from a number of single unconnected acts of distributive justice and goodness ; and likewise, that it must be a scheme, so imperfectly comprehended, and of tBAJP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 149 such a sort in other respects, as to afford a direct gene- ral answer to all objections against the justice and good- ness of it: then analogy is, remotely, of great service in answering those objections ; both by suggesting the an- swer, and showing it to be a credible one. Now this, upon inquiry, will be found to be the case. For, First, Upon supposition that God exercises a mo- ral government over the world, the analogy of his natural government suggests and makes it credible, that his moral government must be a scheme, quite beyond our compre- hension: and this affords a general answer to all objec- tions against the justice and goodness of it. And, condly, A more distinct observation of some particular things contained in God's scheme of natural govern- ment, the like things being supposed, by analogy, to be contained in his moral government, will further show, how little weight is to be laid upon these objections. I. Upon supposition that God exercises a moral go- vernment over the world, the analogy of his natural go- vernment suggests and makes it credible, that his moral government must be a scheme, quite beyond our com- prehension; and this affords a general answer to all ob- jections against the justice and goodness of it. It is most obvious, analogy renders it highly credible, that, upon supposition of a moral government, it must be a scheme : for the world, and the whole natural govern- ment of it, appears to be so: to be a scheme, system, or constitution, whose parts correspond to each other, and to a whole ; as really as any work of art, or as any par- ticular model of a civil constitution and government. In this great scheme of the natural world, individuals have various peculiar relations to other individuals of their own species. And whole species are, we find, variously related to other species, upon this earth. Nor do we know, how much further these kinds of relations may extend. And, as there is not any action or natural event, which we are acquainted with, so single and un- connected, as not to have a respect to some other ac- tions and events; so possibly each of them, when it has not an immediate, may yet have a remote, natural re- lation to other actions and event:^, much beyond the 150 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [Part I. compass of this present world. There seems indeed nothing, from whence we can so much as make a conjec- ture, whether all creatures, actions, and events, through- out the whole of nature, have relations to each other. But, as it is obvious, that all events have future un- known consequences; so if we trace any, as far as we can go, into what is connected with it, we shall find, that if such event were not connected with somewhat further in nature unknown to us, somewhat both past and present, such event could not possibly have been at all. Nor can we give the whole account of any one thing whatever ; of all its causes, ends, and necessary ad- juncts; those adjuncts, I mean, without which it could not have been. By this most astonishing connexion, these reciprocal correspondences and mutual relations, every thing which we see in the course of nature is ac- tually brought about. And things seemingly the most insignificant imaginable are perpetually observed to be necessary conditions to other things of the greatest im- portance ; so that any one thing whatever may, for ought we know to the contrary, be a necessary condition to any other. The natural world then, and natural govern- ment of it, being such an incomprehensible scheme ; so incomprehensible, that a man must, really in the li- teral sense, know nothing at all, who is not sensible of his ignorance in it ; this immediately suggests, and strongly shows the credibility, that the moral world and government of it may be so too. Indeed the natural and moral constitution and government of the world are so connected, as to make up together but one scheme: and it is highly probable, that the first is formed and carried on merely in subserviency to the latter; as the vegetable world is for the animal, and organized bodies for minds. But the thing intended here is, without in- quiring how far the administration of the natural world is subordinate to that of the moral, only to observe the credibility, that one should be analogous or similar to the other: that therefore every act of divine justice and goodness may be supposed to look much beyond itself, and its immediate object; may have some reference to other parts of God's moral administration, and to a ge- Chap TII ] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 151 neral moral plan ; and that every circumstance of this his moral government may be adjusted beforehand with a view to the whole of it. Thus for example : the deter- mined length of time, and the degrees and ways, in which virtue is to remain in a state of warfare and disci- pline, and in which wickedness is permitted to have its pros^ress; the times appointed for the execution of jus- tice; the appointed instruments of it; the kinds of re- wards and punishments, and the manners of their distri- bution; all particular instances of divine justice and goodness, and every circumstance of them, may have such respects to each other, as to make up altogether a whole, connected and related in all its parts ; a scheme or system, which is as properly one as the natural world is, and of the like kind. And supposing this to be the case; it is most evident, that we are not competent judges of this scheme, from the small parts of it which come within our view in the present life: and therefore no objections against any of these parts can be insisted upon by reasonable men. This our ignorance, and the consequence here drawn from it, are universally acknowledged upon other occa- sions; and though scarce denied, yet are universally for- got, when persons come to argue against Religion. And it is not perhaps easy, even for the most reasonable men, always to bear in mind the degree of our ignorance, and make due allowances for it. Upon these accounts, it may not be useless to go on a little further, in order to show more distinctly, how just an answer our ignorance is, to objections against the scheme of Providence. Suppose then a person boldly to assert, that the things complained of, the origin and continuance of evil, might ea.^ily have been prevented by repeated interpositions ;* interpositions so guarded and circumstanced, as would prechide all mischief arising from them ; or, if this were impracticable, that a scheme of government is itself an imperfection; since more good might have been pro- duced, witliout any scheme, system, or constitution at all, by continued single unrelated acts of distributive justice and goodness; because these would have occasioned no ♦ r. 154, 155. 152 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [Part I,- irregularities. And farther than this, it is presumed, the objections will not be carried. Yet the answer is obvi- ous: that were these assertions true, still the observations above, concerning our ignorance in the scheme of divine government and the consequence drawn from it, would hold, in great measure ; enough to vindicate Religion, . against all objections from the disorders of the present state. Were these assertions true, yet the government of the world might be just and good notwithstanding ; for, at the most, they would infer nothing more than that it might have been better. But indeed they are mere arbitrary assertions ; no man being sufficiently acquaint- ed with the possibilities of things, to bring any proof of them to the lowest degree of probability. For however possible what is asserted may seem; yet many instances may be alleged, in things much less out of our reach, of suppositions absolutely impossible, and reducible to the most palpable self-contradictions, which, not every one by any means would perceive to be such, nor perhaps any one at first sight suspect. From these things, it is easy to see distinctly, how our ignorance, as it is the common, is really a satisfactory answer to all objections- against the justice and goodness of Providence. If a man, contemplating any one providential dispensation, which had no relation to any others, should object, that he discerned in it a disregard to justice, or a deficiency of goodness ; nothing would be less an answer to such objection, than our ignorance in other parts of provi- dence, or in the Possibilities of things, no way related to what he was contemplating. But when we know not but the parts objected against may be relative to other parts unknown to us; and when we are unacquainted with what is, in the nature of the thing, practicable in the case before us ; then our ignorance is a satisfactory answer; because, some unknown relation, or some un- known impossibility, may render what is objected against, just and good; nay good in the highest practicable de- gree. II. And how little weight is to be laid upon such ob- jections, will further appear, by a more distinct observa- tion of some particular things contained in the natural Chap. V'II.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 155 government of God, the like to which may be supposed, from analogy, to be contained in his moral government. First, As in the scheme of the natural world, no ends appear to be accomphshed without means: so we find that means very undesirable, often conduce to bring about ends in such a measure desirable, as greatly to overbalance the disagreeableness of the means. And in cases where such means are conducive to such ends, it is not reason, but experience, which shows us, that they are thus conducive. Experience also shows many means to be conducive and necessary to accomplish ends, which means, before experience, we should have thought, would have had even a contrary tendency. Now from these observations relating to the natural scheme of the world, the moral being supposed analogous to it, arises a great credibility, that the putting our misery in each other s power to the degree it is, and making men liable to vice to the degree we are ; and in general, that those things which are objected against the moral scheme of Provi- dence, may be, upon the whole, friendly and assistant to virtue, and productive of an overbalance of happiness : i. e. the things objected against may be means, by which an overbalance of good will, in the end, be found pro- duced. And from the same observations, it appears to be no presumption against this, that we do not, if indeed we do not, see those means to have any such tendency, or that they seem to us to have a contrary one. Thus those things, which we call irregularities, may not be so at all: because they may be means of accomplishing wise and good ends more considerable. And it may be added, as above, that they may also be the only means^ by which these wise and good ends are capable of being accomplished. After these observations it may be proper to add, in order to obviate an absurd and wicked conclusion from any of them, that though the constitution of our nature, from whence we are capable of vice and misery, may, as it undoubtedly does, contribute to the perfection and happiness of the world; and though the actual permission of evil may be beneficial to it : (z. c. it would have been more mischievous, not that a wicked person had himself 154 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [Part I. alDstained from his own wickedness, but that any one had forcibly prevented it, than that it was permitted :) yet notwithstanding, it might have been much better for the world, if this very evil had never been done. Nay it is most clearly conceivable, that the very commission of wickedness may be beneficial to the world, and yet, that it would be infinitely more beneficial for men to re- frain from it. For thus, in the wise and good constitu- tion of the natural world, there are disorders which bring their own cures; diseases, which are themselves reme- dies. Many a man would have died, had it not been for the gout or a fever; yet it would be thought madness to assert, that sickness is a better or more perfect state han health; though the like, with regard to the moral world, has been asserted. But, Secondly J The natural government of the world is car- ried on by general laws. For this there may be wise and good reasons : the wisest and best, for ought we know to the contrary. And that there are such reasons, is suggested to our thoughts by the analogy of nature: by our being made to experience good ends to be ac- complished, as indeed all the good which we enjoy is accomplished, by this means, that the laws, by which the world is governed, are general. For we have scarce any kind of enjoyments, but what we are, in some way or other, instrumental in procuring ourselves, by acting in a manner which we foresee likely to procure them : now this foresight could not be at all, were not the govern- ment of the world carried on by general laws. And though, for ought we know to the contrary, every single case may be, at length, found to have been provided for even by these: yet to prevent all irregularities, or remedy them as they arise, by the wisest and best general laws, may be impossible in the nature of things ; as we see it is absolutely impossible in civil government. But then we are ready to think, that, the constitution of nature re- maining as it is, and the course of things being permitted to go on, in other respects, as it does, there might be interpositions to prevent irn gularities ; though they could not have been prevented, or remedied by any general laws. And there would inder^l be reason to wish, which, Chap. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 155 bv the way, is very different from a right to claim, that all irregularities were prevented or remedied by present interpositions, if these interpositions would have no other effect than this. But it is plain they would have some visible and immediate bad effects: for instance, they would encourage idleness and negligence ; and they would render doubtful the natural rule of life, which is ascertained by this very thing, that the course of the world is carried on by general laws. And further, it is certain they would have distant effects, and very great ones too; by means of the wonderful connexions before mentioned.* So that we cannot so much as guess, what would be the whole result of the interpositions desired. It may be said, any bad result might be prevented by further interpositions, whenever there was occasion for them : but this again is talking quite at random, and in the dark.t Upon the whole then, we see wise reasons, why the course of the world should be carried on by general laws, and good ends accomplished by this means: and for ought we know, there may be the wisest rea- sons for it, and the best ends accomplished by it. We have no ground to believe, that all irregularities could be remedied as they arise, or could have been precluded, by general laws. We find that interpositions would pro- duce evil, and prevent good: and, for ought we know, they would produce greater evil than they would prevent; and prevent greater good than they would produce. And if this be the case, then the not interposing is so far from being a ground of complaint, that it is an instance of goodness. This is intelligible and sufficient : and going further, seems beyond the utmost reach of our faculties. But it may be said, that "after all, these supposed im- possibilities and relations are what we are unacquainted with ; and we must judge of Religion, as of other things, by what we do know, and look upon the rest as nothing : or however, that the answers here given to what is ob- jected against Religion, may equally be made use of to invalidate the proof of it ; since their stress lies so very much upon our ignorance." But, * p. 150, &c. fP. 152. 156 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [Part I. First J Though total ignorance in an)" matter does in- deed equally destroy, or rather preclude, all proof con- cerning it, and objections against it ; yet partial igno- rance does not. For we may in any degree be convinced, that a person is of such a character, and consequently will pursue such ends ; though we are greatly ignorant, what is the proper way of acting, in order the most effectually to obtain those ends : and in this case, objections against his manner of acting, as seemingly not conducive to obtain them, might be answered by our ignorance ; though the proof that such ends were intended, might not at all be invalidated by it. Thus, the proof of Religion is a proof of the moral character of God, and consequently that his government is moral, and that every one upon the whole shall receive accord- ing to his deserts ; a proof that this is the designed end of his government. But we are not competent judges, what is the proper way of acting, in order the most effectually to accomplish this end.* Therefore our ig- norance is an answer to objections against the conduct of Providence, in permitting irregularities, as seeming contradictory to this end. Now, since it is so obvious, that our ignorance may be a satisfactory answer to ob- jections against a thing, and yet not affect the proof of it; till it can be shown, it is frivolous to assert, that our ig- norance invalidates the proof of Religion, as it does the objections against it. Secondly^ Suppose unknown impossibilities, and un- known relations, might justly be urged to invalidate the proof of Religion, as well as to answer objections against it : and that, in consequence of this, the proof of it were doubtful. Yet still, let the assertion be despised, or let it be ridiculed, it is undeniably true, that moral obligations would remain certain, though it were not certain what would, upon the whole, be the conse- quences of observing or violating them. For, these obligations arise immediately and necessarily from the judgment of our own mind, unless perverted, which we cannot violate without being self-condemned. And they would be certain too, from considerations of interest. * Pp. 63, 54. Chap. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 157 For though it were doubtful, what will be the future con- sequences of virtue and vice; yet it is, however, credible, that they may have those consequences, which Religion teaches us they will : and this credibility is a certain * obligation in point of prudence, to abstain from all wick- edness, and to live in the conscientious practice of all that is good. But, Thirdly^ The answers above given to the objections against Religion cannot equally be made use of to inva- lidate the proof of it. For, upon suspicion that God ex- ercises a moral government over the world, analogy does most strongly lead us to conclude, that this moral govern- ment must be a scheme, or constitution, beyond our comprehension. And a thousand particular analogies show us, that parts of such a scheme, from their relation to other parts, may conduce to accomplish ends, which we should have thought they had no tendency at all to accomplish : nay ends, which before experience, we should have thought such parts were contradictory to, and had a tendency to prevent. And therefore all these analogies show, that the way of arguing made use of in objecting against Religion is delusive : because they show it is not at all incredible, that, could we compre- hend the whole, we should find the permission of the disorders objected against to be consistent with justice and goodness ; and even to be instances of them. Now this is not applicable to the proof of Religion, as it is to the objections against it;t and therefore cannot invali- date that proof, as it does these objections. Lastlijy From the observation now made, it is easy to see, that the answers above given to the objections against Providence, though, in a general way of speak- ing, they may be said to be taken from o\ir ignorance ; yet are by no means taken merely from that, but from somewhat which analogy shows us concerning it. For analogy shows us positively, that our ignorance in the possibilities of things, and the various relations in nature, renders us incompetent judges, and leads us to false con- clusions, in cases similar to this, in which we pretend to judge and to object. So that the things above insisted • P. 49, and Part H. Chap. vi. f ^frm. at the HoIIb p. 312. 2d, ed. 158 CONCLUSION. [Part I, upon are not mere suppositions of unknown impossi- bilities and relations : but they are suggested to our thoughts, and even forced upon the observation of seri- ous men, and rendered credible too, by the analogy of nature. And therefore to take these things into the account, is to judge by experience and what we do know : and it is not judging so, to take no notice of them. CONCLUSION. The observations of the last Chapter lead us to consider this little scene of human life, in which we are so busily engaged, as having a reference, of some sort or other, to a much larger plan of things. Whether we are, any way, related to the more distant parts of the boundless universe, into which we are brought, is altogether uncer- tain. But it is evident, that the course of things, which comes within our view, is connected with somewhat, past, present, and future, beyond it.* So that we are placed, as one may speak, in the middle of a scheme, not a fixed but a progressive one, every way, incompre- hensible: incomprehensible, in a manner equally, with respect to what has been, what now is, and what shall be hereafter. And this scheme cannot but contain in it somewhat as wonderful, and as much beyond our thought and conception,t as any thing in that of Religion. For, will any man in his senses say, that it is less difficult to conceive, how the world came to be and to continue as it is, without, than with, an intelligent Author and Go- vernor of it? or, admitting an intelligent Governor of it, that there is some other rule of government more natu- ral, and of easier conception, than that which we call moral? Indeed, without an intelligent Author and Governor of Nature, no account at all can be given, how this universe, or the part of it particularly in which we are concerned, came to be, and the course of it to be carried on, as it is: nor any, of its general end and de- sign, without a moral Governor of it. That there is an intelligent Author of Nature, and natural Governor of * p. 1-19, &c. + See Part II. Ch. ii. CHAP.lTI.j CONCLUSION. 159 the world, i? a. principle gone upon in the foregoing treatise; as proved, and generally known and confessed to be proved. And the very notion of an intelligent Author of Nature, proved by particular final causes, im- phes a will and a character.* Now, as our Avhole nature, the nature which he has given us, leads us to conclude his will and character to be moral, just, and good: so we can scarce in imagination conceive, what it can be other- wise. However, in consequence of this his will and character, whatever it be, he formed the universe as it is, and carries on the course of it as he does, rather than in any other manner ; and has assigned to us, and to all living creatures, a part and a lot in it. Irrational crea- tures act this their part, and enjoy and undergo the plea- sures and the pains allotted them, without any reflection. But one would think it impossible, that creatures endued with reason could avoid reflecting sometimes upon all this ; reflecting, if not from whence we came, yet, at least, whither we are going; and what the mysterious scheme, in the midst of which we find ourselves, will, at length, come out and produce: a scheme in which it is certain we are highly interested, and in which we may be interested even beyond conception. For many things prove it palpably absurd to conclude, that we shall cease to be, at death. Particular analogies do most sensibly show us, that there is nothing to be thought strange, in our being to exist in another state of life. And that we are now living beings, affords a strong probability that we shall continue so ; unless there be some positive ground, and there is none from reason or analogy, to think death will destroy us. Were a persuasion of this kind ever so well grounded, there would, surely, be little reason to take pleasure in it. But indeed it* can have no other ground, than some such imagination, as that of our gross bodies being ourselves ; which is contrary to experience. Experience too most clearly shows us the folly of concluding, from the body and the living agent affecting each other mutually, that the dissolution of the former is the destruction of the latter. And there are remarkable instances of their not affecting each other, * p. no. 160 CONCLUSION. [Part I. which lead us to a contrary conclusion. The supposi- tion, then, which in all reason we are to go upon, is, that our living nature will continue after death. And it is infinitely unreasonable to lorm an institution of life, or to act upon any other supposition. Now all ex- pectation of immortality, whether more or less cer- tain, opens an unbounded prospect to our hopes and our fears: since we see the constitution of nature is such, as to admit of misery, as well as to be productive of happiness, and experience ourselves to partake of both in some degree; and since we cannot but know, what higher degrees of both we are capable of. And there is no presumption against believing further, that our future interest depends upon our present behaviour : for we see our present interest doth; and that the happiness and misery, which are naturally annexed to our actions, very frequently do not follow, till long after the actions are done, to which they are respectively annexed. So that were speculation to leave us uncertain, whether it were likely, that the Author of Nature, in giving happi- ness and misery to his creatures, hath regard to their actions or not: yet, since we find by experience that he hath such regard, the whole sense of things which he has given us, plainly leads us, at once and without any elaborate inquiries, to think, that it may, indeed must, be to good actions chiefly that he hath annexed happiness, and to bad actions misery; or that he will, upon the whole, reward those who do well, and punish those who do evil. To confirm this from the constitution of the world, it has been observed, that some sort of moral go- vernment is necessarily implied in that natural govern- ment of God, which we experience ourselves under ; that good and bad actions, at present, are naturally re- warded and punished, not only as beneficial and mis- chievous to society, but also as virtuous and vicious: and that there is, in the very nature of the thing, a tendency to their being rewarded and punished in a much higher degree than they are at present. And though this high- er degree of distributive justice, which nature thus points out and leads towards, is prevented for a time from tak- ing; place ; it is by obstacles, which the state of this world CiiAp.VIL] CONCLUSION. 161 \inhappily throws in its way, and which therefore are in their nature temporary. Now, as these things in the natural conduct of Providence are observable on the side of virtue; so there is nothing to be set against them on the side of vice. A moral scheme of government then is visibly established, and, in some degree, carried into execution: and this, together with the essential tenden- cies of virtue and vice duly considered, naturally raise in us an apprehension, that it will be carried on further towards perfection in a future state, and that every one shall there receive according to his deserts. And if this be so, then our future and general interest, under the moral government of God, is appointed to depend upon our behaviour ; notwithstanding the difficulty, which this may occasion, of securing it, and the danger of los- ing it : just in the same manner as our temporal interest, under his natural government, is appointed to depend -upon our behaviour ; notwithstanding the like difficulty and danger. For, from our original constitution, and that of the world which we inhabit, we are naturally trusted with ourselves ; with our own conduct and our own interest. And from the same constitution of nature, especially joined with that course of things which is owing to men, we have temptations to be unfaithful in this trust ; to forfeit this interest, to neglect it, and run ourselves into misery and ruin. From these temptations arise the difficulties of behaving so as to secure our temporal interest, and the hazard of behaving so as to miscarry in it. There is therefore nothing incredible in .supposing there may be the like difficulty and hazard with regard to that chief and final good, which Religion lays before us. Indeed the whole account, how it came to pass that we were placed in such a condition as this, must l)c beyond our comprehension. But it is in part accounted for by what Religion teaches us, that the character of virtue and piety must be a necessary quali- fication for a future state of security and ha])piness, under the moral government of God; in like manner, as some certain qualifications or other are necessary for every particular condicion of life, under his natural government: and that the present state was intended to 1. 162 CONCLUSION. [Part I.. be a school of discipline, for improving in ourselves that character. Now this intention of nature is rendered highly credible by observing ; that we are plainly made for improvement of all kinds : that it is a general appoint- ment of Providence, that we cultivate practical principles, and form within ourselves habits of action, in order to become fit for what we were wholly unfit for before : that in particular, childhood and youth is naturally appointed to be a state of discipline for mature age : and that the present world is pccuharly fitted for a state of moral dis- cipline. And, A^ hereas objections are urged against the whole notion of moral government and a probationary state, from the opinion of Necessity ; it has been shown,. that God has given us the evidence, as it were, of expe- rience, that all objections against Religion, on this head,, are vain and delusive. He has also, in his natural go- vernment, suggested an answer to all our short-sighted objections, against the equity and goodness of his moral: government ; and in general he has exemplified to us the latter by the former. These things, v* hich it is to be remembered, are mat- ters of fact, ought, in all common sense, to awaken man- kind; to induce them to consider in earnest their con- dition, and what they have to do. It is absurd, absurd to the degree of being ridiculous, if the subject were not of so serious a kind, for men to think themselves secure in a vicious life ; or even in that immoral thoughtlessness, which far the greatest part of them are fallen into. And the credibility of Religion, arising from experience and facts here considered, is fully sufficient, in reason, to engage them to live in the general practice of all virtue and piety; under the serious apprehension, though it should be mixed with some doubt,* of a righteous admin- istration established in nature, and a future judgment in consequence of it: especially when we consider, how very qu( stionable it is, whether any thing at all can be gained by vice ;t how unquestionably little as well as pn carious, the pleasures and profits of it are at the best, and how soon they must be parted with at the longest^ For, in the deliberations of reason, concerning what we * Part U. Ch. vi. i ?. 86. chap.vii.j conclusion. 163 are to pursue and what to avoid, as temptations to any- thing from mere passion are supposed out of the case : so inducements to vice, from cool expectations of plea- sure and interest so small and uncertain and short, are really so insignificant, as, in the view of reason to be almost nothing in themselves; and in comparison with the importance of Religion they quite disappear and are lost. Mere passion indeed may be alleged, though not as a reason, yet as an excuse, for a vicious course of life. And how sorry an excuse it is, w^ill be manifest by observing, that we are placed in a condition in which we are unavoidably inured to govern our passions, by being necessitated to govern them : and to lay ourselves under the same kind of restraints, and as great ones too, from temporal regards, as virtue and piety, in the ordinary course of things, require. The plea of ungovernable passion then, on the side of vice, is the poorest of all things; for it is no reason, and but a poor excuse. But the proper motives to religion are the proper proofs of it, from our moral nature, from the presages of conscience, and our natural apprehension of God under the charac- ter of a righteous Governor and Judge : a nature, and conscience, and apprehension, given us by him; and from the confirmation of the dictates of reason, by life and immortality brought to light by the Gospel; and the wrath of God revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men. END OF THE FIRST PART. THE ANALOG:f OF RELIGION. PART II. OF REVEALED RELIGION. CHAP I. ^ OF THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. Some persons, upon pretence of the sufficiency of the light of nature, avowedly reject all revelation, as, in its very notion, incredible, and what must be fictitious. And indeed it is certain, no revelation would have been given, had the light of nature been sufficient in such a sense, as to render one not wanting and useless. But no man, in seriousness and simplicity of mind, can possibly think it so, who considers the state of Religion in the heathen world before revelation, and its present state in those places which have borrowed no light from it : particu- larly the doubtfulness of some of the greatest men, con- cerning things of the utmost importance, as well as the natural inattention and ignorance of mankind in general. It is impossible to say, who would have been able to have reasoned out that whole system, which we call natural Religion, in its genuine simplicity, clear of super- stition: but there is certainly no ground to affirm that the generality could. If they could, there is no sort of probabihty tliat they would. Admitting there wore, they would highly want a standing admonition to remind them of it, and inculcate it upon them. And further still, were they as much disposed to attend to Rehgion, as the better sort of men are ; yet even upon this supposition, there would be various occasions for supernatural instruction and assistance, and the greatest 166 OF THE IMPORTANCE [P^rt U. advantages might be afforded by them. So that to say revelation is a thing superfluous, what there was no need of, and what can be of no service, is, I think, to talk quite wildly and at random. Nor would it be more extrava- gant to affirm, that mankind is so entirely at ease in the present state, and life so completely happy, that it is a contradiction to suppose our condition capable of being, in any respect, better. There are other persons, not to be ranked with these, who seem to be getting into a way of neglecting, and, as it were, overlooking revelation, as of small importance, provided natural Religion be kept to. With little regard either to the evidence of the former, or to the objections against it, and even upon supposition of its truth; "the only design of it," say they, " must be, to establish a belief of the moral system of nature, and to enforce the practice of natural piety and virtue. The behef and prac- tice of these things were, perhaps, much promoted by the first publication of Christianity: but whether they are believed and practised, upon the evidence and mo- tives of nature or of revelation, is no great matter."* This way of considering revelation, though it is not the same with the former, yet borders nearly upon it, and very much, at length, runs up into it : and requires to be particularly considered, with regard to the persons who seem to be getting into this way. The consideration of it will likewise further show the extravagance of the for- mer opinion, and the truth of the observations in answer to it, just mentioned. And an inquiry into the Impor- tance of Christianity, cannot be an improper introduc- tion to a treatise concerning the credibihty of it. Now if God has given a revelation to mankind, and commanded those things which are commanded in Chris- tianity ; it is evident, at first sight, that it cannot in any wise be an indifferent matter, whether we obey or dis- obey those commands : unless we are certainly assured, * Tnvenis multos proptrrrn iiolU- fieri Cliristianos, quia quasi sufliciunt sibi dp bona Vila SUM. Bnie vi\ rn* ojnis < st , siiL. (^uid mihi prapc»'plurus t st Christus ? Ut b<'ii«' vivaui? Jam bcup vivo, (^uid niilii iipcessarius t'sL CJiristiis ; nullum lion iciiiiiiiii, iiuiluni furluni, luillam ra|iiiiain facio, res aiienas iion coiunipisco, nullo adukeno containiiioi' ? ISain iiivniialur in vita nu-a aliquid tjuod reprebeiidatur, et qui leprehendrrii faciat ClirisLianuni. ^lug. in Psai. xxJcTi. Chaf. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 167 that we know all the reasons for them, and that all those reasons are now ceased, with regard to mankind in general, or to ourselves in particular. And it is ab- solutely impossible we can be assured of this. For our ignorance of these reasons proves nothing in the case : since the whole analogy of nature shows, what is indeed in itself evident, that there may be infinite reasons for things, with which we are not acquainted. But the importance of Christianity will more distinctly appear, by considering it more distinctly : First, as a re- publication, and external institution, of natural or es- sential Religion, adapted to the present circumstances of mankind, and intended to promote natural piety and virtue : and Secondly, as containing an account of a dispensation of things, not discoverable by reason, in consequence of which several distinct precepts are en- joined us. For though natural Religion is the founda- tion and principal part of Christianity, it is not in any sense the whole of it. I. Christianity is a republication of natural Religion. It instructs mankind in the moral system of the world : that it is the work of an infinitely perfect Being, and undt r his government ; that virtue is his law ; and that he will finally judge mankind in righteousness, and render to all according to their works, in a future state. And, which is very material, it teaches natural Religion in its genuine simplicity ; free from those superstitions, with which it was totally corrupted, and under whicji it was in a manner lost. Revelation is, further, an authoritative publication of natural Religion, and so affords the evidence of testi- mony for the truth of it. Indeed the miracles and ])r()phecies recorded in Scripture, were intended to prove a particular dispensation of Providence, the re- demption of the world by the Messiah: but this dots not hinder, but that they may also prove God's general providence over the world, as our moral Governor and Judge. And they evid ntly do prove it; because this character of the Author of Nature, is necessarily con- nected with and im[)lied in that ])ariicular revealed dispensation of things : it is likewise coiUinually taught 168 OF THE IMPORTANCE [Part IL expressly, and insisted upon, by those persons who wrought the miracles and delivered the prophecies. So that indeed natural Religion seems as much proved by the Scripture revelation, as it would have been, had the design of revelation been nothing else than to prove it. But it may possibly be disputed, how far miracles can prove natural Religion; and notable objections may be urged against this proof of it, considered as a matter of- speculation : but considered as a practical thing, there can be none. For suppose a person to teach natural Religion to a nation, who had lived in total ignorance or forgetfulness of it ; and to declare he was commissioned by God so to do : suppose him, in proof of his commis- sion, to foretell things future, which no human foresight could have guessed at ; to divide the sea with a word ;. feed great multitudes with bread from heaven ; cure all manner of diseases ; and raise the dead, even himself, to life ; would not this give additional credibility to his teaching, a credibility beyond what that of a common man would have ; and be an authoritative publication of the law of nature, i. e. a new proof of it.^^ It would be a practical one, of the strongest kind, perhaps, which human creatures are capable of having given them. The Law of Moses then, and the Gospel of Christ, are authoritative publications of the religion of nature; they afforda proof of God'sgeneral providence, as moral Gover- nor of the world, as well as of his particular dispensations of providence towards sinful creatures, revealed in the Law and the Gospel. As they are the only evidence of the latter, so they are an additional evidence of the former. To show this further, let us suppose a man of the greatest and most improved capacity, who had never heard of revelation, convinced upon tiie whole, notwith- standing the disorders of the world, that it was under the direction and moral government of an infinitely perfect Being ; but ready to question, whether he were not got beyond the reach of his faculties : suppose him brought, by this suspicion, into great danger of being carried away by the universal bad example of almost every one around him, who appeared to have no sense, no prac- tical sense at least, of these things: and this, perhaps, . Chap. L] OF CHRISTIANITY. 169 would be as advantageous a situation with regard ta Religion, as nature alone ever placed any man in. What a confirmation now must it be to such a person^ all at once, to find, that this moral system of things was revealed to mankind, in the name of that infinite Being, whom he had from principles of reason believed in : and that the publishers of the revelation proved their com- mission from him, by making it appear, that he had entrusted them with a power of suspending and chang- ing the general laws of nature.* Nor must it by any means be omitted, for it is a thing of the utmost importance, that life and immortahty are eminently brought to light by the Gospel. The great doctrines of a future state, the danger of a course of wickedness, and the efficacy of repentance, are not only confirmed in the Gospel, but are taught, especially the last is, with a degree of light, to which that of nature is but darkness. Further: As Christianity served these ends and pur- poses, when it was first published, by the miraculous publication itself ; so it was intended to serve the same purposes in future ages, by means of the settlement of a visible church : of a society, distinguished from common ones, and from the rest of the world, by peculiar reli- gious institutions; by an instituted method of instruction, and an instituted form of extc rnal Religion. Miraculous powers were given to the first preachers of Christianity, in ord( r to their introducing it into the world : a visible church was established, in order to continue it, and carry it on successively throughout all ages. Had Moses and the Prophets, Christ and his Apostles, only taught, and by miracles proved, Religion to their contemporaries ; the benefits of their instructions would have reached but to a small part of mankind. Christianity must have been, in a great degree, sunk and forgot in a very few ages. To prevent this, appears to have been one reason why a visible church was instituted : to be, like a city upon a hill, a standing memorial to the world of the duly wliich we owe our Maker: to call men continually, both by example and instruction, to attend to it, and, by the form of Religion, ever before their eyes, remind them of 170 OF THE IMPORTANCE [Part II. the reality: to be the repository of the oracles of God: to hold up the light of revelation in aid to that of nature, and propagate it throughout all generations to the end of the world — the light of revelation, considered here in no other view, than as designed to enforce natural Religion. And in proportion as Christianity is professed and taught in the world, Religion, natural or essential Religion, is thus distinctly and advantageously laid before mankind, and brought again and again to their thoughts, as a matter of infinite importance. A visible church has also a further tendency to promote natural Religion, as being an instituted method of education, originally intended to be of more peculiar advantage to those who conform to it. For one end of the institution was, that, by admoni- tion and reproof, as well as instruction ; by a general regular discipline, and public exercises of Religion ; the hody of Christ, as the Scripture speaks, should be edified ; i. e. trained up in piety and virtue for a higher and better state. This settlement, then, appearing thus beneficial; tending in the nature of the thing to answer, and, in some degree, actually answering, those ends ; it is to be remembered, that the very notion of it implies positive institutions; for the visibility of the church consists in them. Take away every thing of this kind, and you lose the very notion itself. So that if the things now mentioned are advantages, the reason and importance of positive institutions in general is most obvious ; since without them these advantages could not be secured to the world. And it is mere idle wantonness, to insist upon knowing the reasons, why such particular ones were fixed upon rather than others. The benefit arising from this supernatural assistance, which Christianity affords to natural Religion, is what some persons are very slow in apprehending. And yet ' it is a thing distinct in itself, and a very plain obvious one. For will any in good earnest really say, that the bulk of mankind in the heathen world were in as advan- tageous a situation with regard to natural Religion, as they are now amongst us: that it was laid before them, and enforced upon them, in a manner as distinct, and as much tending to influence their practice.^ Chap. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 171 The objections against all this, from the perversion of Christianity, and from the supposition of its having had but Httle good influence, however innocently they may be proposed, yet cannot be insisted upon as conclusive, upon any principles, but such as lead to downright Atheism ; because the manifestation of the law of nature by reason, which, upon all principles of Theism, must have been from God, has been perverted and rendered ineffectual in the same manner. It may indeed, I think, truly be said, that the good effects of Christianity have not been small ; nor its supposed ill effects, any effects at all of it, properly speaking. Perhaps, too, the things themselves done have been aggravated ; and if not, Christianity hath been often only a pretence ; and the same evils in the main would have been done upon some other pretence. However, great and shocking as the corruptions and abuses of it have really been, they cannot be insisted upon as arguments against it, upon principles of Theism. For one cannot proceed one step in reasoning upon natural Religion, any more than upon Christianity, without laying it down as a first principle, that the dispensations of Providence are not to be judged of by their perversions, but by their genuine tendencies: not by what they do actually seem to effect, but by what they would effect if mankind did their part ; that part which is justly put and left upon them. It is altogether as much the language of one as of the other : He that is unjust, let him he unjust still : and he that is holy, let him he holy still* The light of reason does not, any more than that of revelation, force men to submit to its authority; both admonish them of what they ought to do and avoid, together with the consequences of each; and after this, leave them at full liberty to act just as they please, till the appointed time of judgment. Every moment's experience shows, that this is God's general rule of government. To return tlien : Christianity being a promulgation of the law of nature; beim^ moreover an authoritative pro- mulgation of it ; with new liLrht, and other circumstances of peculiar advantage, adapted to the wants of mankind; • Rev. xxii. 1 1. 172 OF THE IMPORTANCE [Part IL these things fully show its importance. And it is to be observed further, that as the nature of the case requires, so all Christians are commanded to contribute, by their profession of Christianity, to preserve it in the world, and render it such a promulgation and enforcement of Religion. For it is the very scheme of the Gospel, that each Christian should, in his degree, contribute towards continuing and carrying it on : all by uniting in the public profession and external practice of Christianity ; some by instructing, by having the oversight and taking care of this religious community, the Church of God* Now this further shows the importance of Christianity; and, which is what I chiefly intend, its importance in a practical sense: or the high obligations we are under, to take it into our most serious consideration ; and the danger there must necessarily be, not only in treating it despitefully, which I am not now speaking of, but in disregarding and neglecting it. For this is neglecting to do what is expressly enjoined us, for continuing those benefits to the world, and transmitting them down to future times. And all this holds, even though the only thing to be considered in Christianity, were its subser- viency to natural Religion. But, II. Christianity is to be considered in a further view; as containing an account of a dispensation of things, not at all discoverable by reason, in consequence of which several distinct precepts are enjoined us. Chris- tianity is not only an external institution of natural Religion, and a new promulgation of God's general pro- vidence, as righteous Governor and Judge of the world; / but it contains also a revelation of a particular dispensa- tion of Providence, carrying on by his Son and Spirit, for the recovery and salvation of mankind, who are represented in Scripture to be in a state of ruin. And in consequence of this revelation being made, we are commanded to he haptizcd, not only in the name of the Father, but also, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost : and other obligations of duty, unknown before, to the Son and the Holy Ghost, are revealed. Now the importance of these duties may be judged of, by observing that they arise, not from positive command merely, but also from Chap. L] OF CHRISTIANITY. 173 the offices, which appear, from Scripture, to belong to those divine persons in the Gospel dispensation; or from the relations, which, we are there informed, they stand in to us. By reason is revealed the relation, which God the Father stands in to us. Hence arises the obhgation of duty which we are under to him. In Scripture are revealed the relations, which the Son and Holy Spirit stand in to us. Hence arise the obligations of duty, w^hich we are under to them. The truth of the case, as one may speak, in each of these three respects being admitted: that God is the governor of the world, upon the evidence of reason ; that Christ is the mediator between God and man, and the Holy Ghost our guide and sanctifier, upon the evidence of revelation : the truth of the case, I say, in each of these respects being admitted ; it is no m.ore a question, why it should be commanded, that we be baptized in the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, than that we be baptized in the name of the Father. This matter seems to require to be more fully stated.* Let it be remembered, then, that Religion comes under the twofold consideration of internal and external : for the latter is as real a part of Religion, of true Reh- gion, as the former. Now when Religion is considered under the first notion, as an inward principle, to be exerted in such and such inward acts of the mind and heart ; the essence of natural Religion may be said to consist in religious regards to God the Father Almighty: and the essence of revealed Religion, as distinguished from natural, to consist in religious regards to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost. And the obligation we are under, of paying these religious regards to each of these divine persons respectively, arises from the respective relations which they each stand in to us. How these rela- tions arc made known, whether by reason or revelation, makes no alteration in the case: because the duties arise out of the relations themselves, not out of the manner in which we are informed of them. The Son and Spirit have each his proper office in that great dispensation of • Sre The Natnrr-, Ohlipntion, and Fffiracy, of the Christian Sacraments, ic, and ColliU-r of revfakd Religion, as there 4iioU'd. 174 OF THE IMPORTANCE [Part II. Providence, the redemption of the world; the one our mediator, the other our sanctifier. Docs not then the duty of rehgious regards to both these divine persons, as immediately arise to tlie view of reason, out of the very nature of these offices and relations ; as the inward good- will and kind intention, which we owe to our fellow creatures, arises out of the common relations between us and them ? But it will be asked, " What are the inward religious regards, appearing thus ob- viously due to the Son and Holy Spirit; as arising, not merely from command in Scripture, but from the very nature of the revealed relations, which they stand in to us ?" I answer, the religious regards of reverence^ honour, love, trust, gratitude, fear, hope. In what external manner this inward worship is to be expressed, is a matter of pure revealed command; as perhaps the external manner, in which God the Father is to be wor- shipped, may be more so, than we are ready to think: but the worship, the internal worship itself, to the Son and Holy Ghost, is no further matter of pure revealed command, than as the relations they stand in to us are matter of pure revelation: for the relations being known, the obligations to such internal worship are obligations of reason, arising out of those relations themselves. In short, the history of the Gospel as immediately shows us the reason of these obligations, as it shows us the meaning of the words. Son and Holy Ghost. If this account of the Christian Religion be just; those persons who can speak lightly of it, as of little conse- quence, provided natural Religion be kept to, plainly forget, that Christianity, even what is peculiarly so called, as distinguished from natural Religion, has yet somewhat very important, even of a moral nature. For the office of our Lord being made known, and the rela- tion he stands in to us, the obligation of religious regards to him is plainly moral, as much as charity to mankind is; since tliis obligation arises, before external c ommand, immediately out of that his office and relation itself. Those persons appear to forget, that revelation is to be considered, as informing us of somewhat new, in the state of mankind, and in the government of the Chap. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 175 world: as acquainting us vrith some relations we stand in, which could not otherwise have been known. And these relations being real (though before revelation we could be under no obligations from them, yet upon their being revealed), there is no reason to think, but that neglect of behaving suitably to them will be attended with the same kind of consequences under God's government, as neglecting to behave suitably to any other relations made known to us by reason. And ignorance, whether unavoidable or voluntary, so far as we can possibly see, will just as much, and just as little, excuse in one case as in the other : the ignorance being supposed equally unavoidable, or equally voluntary, in both cases. If therefore Christ be indeed the mediator between God and man, i, e. if Christianity be true ; if he be in- deed our Lord, our Saviour, and our God ; no one can say, what may follow, not only the obstinate, but the careless disregard to him, in those high relations. Nay no one can say, what may follow such disregard, even in the way of natural consequence.* For, as the natural consequences of vice in this life are doubtless to be con- sidered as judicial punishments inflicted by God; so likewise, for aught we know, the judicial punishments of the future hfe may be, in a like way or a like sense, the natural consequence of vice:t of men's violating or disre- garding the relations which God has placed them in here, and made known to them. Again: If mankind are corrupted and depraved in their moral character, and so are unfit for that state, which Christ is gone to prepare for his disciples ; and if the assistance of God's Spirit be necessary to renew their nature, in the degree n quisite to their being qualified for that state ; all which is implied in the express, though figurative declaration, Except a man be horn of the Spirity he cannot enter into the khujdom of Go(l:X supposing this, is it possible any serious person can think it a slight matter, whether or no he makes use of the means, ex- pressly commanded by God, for obtaining tliis divine assistance.? especially since the whole a»ialogy of nature shows, that we are not to expect any benefits, without * p. 72. 73. + Cb. V. X Jolin Jii. v. 176 OF THE IMPORTANCE [P.art II. making use of the appointed means for obtaining or enjoying them. Now reason shows us nothing, of the particular immediate means of obtaining either tempo- ral or spiritual benefits. This therefore we must learn, either from experience or revelation. And experience, the present case does not admit of. The conclusion from all this evidently is, that, Chris- tianity being supposed either true or credible, it is unspeakable irreverence, and really the most presump- tuous rashness, to treat it as a light matter. It can never justly be esteemed of little consequence, till it be positively supposed false. Nor do I know a higher and more important obligation which we are under, than that of examining most seriously into the evidence of it, supposing its credibility; and of embracing it, upon sup- position of its truth. The two following deductions may be proper to be added, in order to illustrate the foregoing observations, and to prevent their being mistaken. First, Hence we may clearly see, where lies the dis- tinction between what is positive and what is moral in Rehgion. Moral precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we see: positive j)recepts are precepts, the rea- sons of which we do not see.* Moral duties arise out of the nature of the case itself, prior to external command. Positive duties do not arise out of the nature of the case, but from external command ; nor would they be duties at all, were it not for such command, received from him whose creatures and subjects we are. But the manner in which the nature of the case, or the fact of the rela- tion, is made known, this doth not denominate any duty either positive or moral. That we be baptized in the name of the Father is as much a positive duty, as that we be , baptized in the name of the Son; because both arise equally from revealed command: though the relation which we stand in to God the Father is made known to us by rea- son ; the relation wc stand in to. Christ, by revelation only. * Tliis is the distinction betwern mornl nnd positive precepts considered respec- tively as such. Hut yet, since the hitter have somewliat of a moral nature, we may see the reason of lliem, considered in this view. Moral an.) ufjitive precepts are in some respects alike, in other respects different. . So far as they are alike, we discern the reasons of i)oth ; so far as they are tlilFerent, we discern the reasons of the for- mer, bi'i, not of the latter. See p. 108, &c., and p. 177. Chap. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 177 On tlie other hand, the dispensation of the Gospel admitt'jd, gratitude as immediately becomes due to Christ, from his being the voluntary minister of this dispensation, as it is due to God the Father, from his being the foun- tain of all good ; though the first is made known to us by' revelation only, the second by reason. Hence also we may see, and, for distinctness' sake, it may be worth men- tioning, that positive institutions come under a twofold consideration. They are either institutions founded on natural Religion, as baptism in the name of the Father ; though this has also a particular reference to the Gospel dispensation, for it is in the name of God, as the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ : or they are external institu- tions founded on revealed Religion ; as baptism in the name of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Secondly^ From the distinction between what is moral and what is positive in Religion, appears the ground of that peculiar preference, which the Scripture teaches us to be due to the former. The reason of positive institutions in general is very obvious ; though we should not see the reason, why such particular ones are pitched upon rather than others. Whoever therefore, instead of cavilling at words, will tittend to the thing itself, may clearly see, that posi- tive institutions in general, as distinguished from this or that particular one, have the nature of moral com- mands ; since the reasons of them appear. Thus, for instance, the external worship of God is a moral duty, though no particular mode of it be so. Care then is to be taken, when a comparison is made between positive and moral duties, that they be compared no further than as they are different ; no further than as the former are positive, or arise out of mere external command, the reasons of which we are not acquainted with ; and as the latter are moral, or arise out of the apparent reason of the case, without such external command. Unless tliis caution be observed, we shall run into endless confusion. Now this being premised, suppose two standing pre- ce])ts enjoint d by the same autliority ; that, in certain conjunctures, it is impossible to ob( y both ; that the former 178 OF THE IMPORTANCE [Part 1% is moral, i. e. a precept of which we see the reasons, and that they hold in the particular case before us ; but that the latter is positive, ^. e. a precept of which we da not see the reasons: it is indisputable that our obliga- tions are to obey the former ; because there is an appa- rent reason for this preference, and none against it. Further, positive institutions, I suppose all those which Christianity enjoins, are means to a moral end: and the end must be acknowledged more excellent than the means. Nor is observance of these institutions any religious obedience at all, or of any value, otherwise than as it proceeds from a moral principle. This seems to be the strict logical way of stating and determining this matter; but will, perhaps, be found less applicable to practice, than may be thought at first sight. And theiefore, in a more practical, though more lax way of consideration, and taking the words, moral law and positive institutions y in the popular sense ; I add, that the whole moral law is as much matter of revealed command, as positive institutions are : for the Scripture enjoins every moral virtue. In this respect then they are both upon a level. But the moral law is, moreover, written upon our hearts ; interwoven into our very nature. And this is a plain intimation of the Author of it, which is to be preferred, when they interfere. But there is not altogether so much necessity for the determination of this question, as some persons seem to think. Nor are we left to reason alone to determine it. For, First, Though mankind have, in all ages, been greatly prone to place their religion in peculiar positive rites, by way of equivalent for obedience to moral pre- cepts; yet, without making any comparison at all between them, and consequently without determining which is to have the preference, the nature of the thing abundantly shows all notions of that kind to be utterly subversive of true Religion as they are, moreover, con- trary to the whole general tenor of Scripture ; and like- wise to the most express particular declarations of it, that nothing can render us accepted of God, without moral virtue. Sccondfij, Upon the occasion of mention- ing together positive and moral duties, the Scripture Chap. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 179 always puts the stress of Rehgion upon the latter, and never upon the former: which, though no sort of allow- ance to neglect the former, when they do not interfere with the latter, yet is a plain intimation, that when they do, the latter are to be preferred. And further, as raankmd are for placing the stress of their religion diny where, rather than upon virtue; lest both the reason of the thing, and the general spirit of Christianity, appearing in the intimation now mentioned, should be ineffectual against this prevalent folly: our Lord him- self, from whose command abne the obligation of posi- tive institutions arises, has taken occasion to make the comparison between them and moral precepts ; when tlie Pharisees censured him, for eating loith publicans and sinners; and also when they censured his disciples, for plucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath dag. Upon this comparison, he has determined expressly, and in form, which shall have the preference when they interfere. And by dehvering his authoritative determination in a proverbial manner of expression, he has made it ge- neral: I unll have mercgy and not sacrifice.* The pro- priety of the word proverbial^ is not the thing insisted upon: though I think the manner of speaking is to be called so. But that the manner of speaking very remarkably renders the determination general, is surely indisputable. For, had it, in the latter case, been said only, that God preferred mercy to the rigid observance of the Sabbath; even then," by parity of reason, most justly might we have argued, that he preferred mercy likewise, to the observance of other ritual institutions ; and in general, moral duti-es, to positive ones. And thus the determination would have been general; though its being so were inferred and not expressed. But as the passage really stands in the Gospel, it is nuich stronii:cr. For the sense and the very literal words of our Lord's answer are as applicable to any other instance of a comparison, between positive and moral duties, as to this upon which they were spoken. And if, in case of com[)etition, mercy is to be preferred to positive institutions, it will scarce be tliought, that ♦ MatOi. ix. 13, and xii. 7. M 8 180 OF THE IMPORTANCE [Part II. justice is to ^Ive place to them. It is remarkable too, that, as the words are a quotation from the Old Testa- ment, they are introduced, on both the forementioned occasions, with a declaration, that the Pharisees did not understand the meaning of them. This, I say, is very remarkable. For, since it is scarce possible, for the most ignorant person, not to understand the hteral sense of the passage, in the Prophet;* and since understanding the literal sense would not have prevented their con- demning the guiltless,\ it can hardly be doubted, that the thing which our Lord really intended in that decla- ration was, that the Pharisees had not learned from it, as they might, wherein the general spirit of Religion consists: that it consists in moral piety and virtue, as distinguished from forms, and ritual observances. How- ever, it is certain we may learn this from his divine application of the passage, in the Gospel. But, as it is one of the peculiar weaknesses of human nature, when, upon a comparison of two things, one is found to be of greater importance than the other, to consider this other as of scarce any importance at all : it is highly necessary that we remind ourselves, how great presumption it is, to make light of any institutions of divine appointment ; that our obligations to obey all God's commands w^hatever are absolute and indispens- able ; and that commands merely positive, admitted to be from him, lay us under a moral obligation to obey them : an obligation moral in the strictest and most proper sense. To these things I cannot forbear adding, that the account now given of Christianity most strongly shows and enforces upon us the obligation of searching the Scriptures, in order to see, what the scheme of revela- tion really is; instead of determining beforehand, from reason, what the scheme of it must be.+ Indeed if in Revelation there be found any passages, the seeming meaning of which is contrary to natural Religion ; we may most certainly conclude, such seeming meaning not to be the real one. But it is not any degree of a presumption against an interpretation of Scripture, that * Hos. vi. f See MaUh. xii. vii. J See Chap. iii. / CaAP. II.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 181 such interpretation contains a doctrine, which the hght of nature cannot discover;* er a precept, which the law of nature does not obhge to. CHAP. II. K OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION AGAINST A REVELATION, CONSIDERED AS MIRACULOUS. Having shown the importance of the Christian revela- tion, and the obligations which we are under seriously to attend to it, upon supposition of its truth, or its cre- dibility: the next thing in order, is to consider the sup- posed presumptions against revelation in general ; which shall be the subject of this Chapter: and the objections against the Christian in particular; which shall be the subject of some following ones.f For it seems the most natural method, to remove the prejudices against Chris- tianity, before we proceed to the consideration of the positive evidence for it, and the objections against that evidence. t It is, I think, commonly supposed, that there is some peculiar presumption, from the analogy of nature, against the Christian scheme of things; at least against miracles; so as that stronger evidence is necessary to prove the truth and reality of them, than would be sufficient to con- vince us of other events, or matters of fact. Indeed the consideration of this supposed presumption cannot bat be thought very insignificant, by many persons. Yet, as it belongs to the subject of this Treatise; so it may tend to open the mind, and remove some prejudices: however needless the consideration of it be, upon its own account. I. I find no appearance of a presumption, from the analogy of nature, against the general scheme of Chris- tianity, that God created and invisibly governs the world by Jesus Christ; and by him also will hercaft(M' jiidi^c it in rigiitcousness, i. e. render to every one according to his works ; and that good men are under the secret * p. 181, 182. f Ch. iii. iv. V. vi. X Cli. vii. \ 182 OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [Part H influence of liis Spirit. Whether these things are^ or are not, to be called miraculous, is, perhaps, only a question about words; or however, is of no moment in the case. If the analogy of nature raises any presump- tion against this general scheme of Christianity, it must be, either because it is not discoverable by reason or expe- rience; or else, because it is unlike that course of nature, which is. But analogy raises no presumption against the truth of this scheme, upon either of these accounts. First, There is no presumption, from analogy, against the truth of it, upon account of its not being discover- able by reason or experience. For suppose one who never heard of revelation, of the most improved under- standing, and acquainted with our whole system of natural philosophy and natural rehgion; such a one could not but be sensible, that it was but a very small part of the natural and moral system of the universe, which he was acquainted with. He could not but be sensible, that there must be innumerable things, in the dispensations of Providence past, in the invisible govern- ment over the world at present carrying on, and in what is to come; of which he was wholly ignorant,* and which could not be discovered without revelation. Whether the scheme of nature be, in the strictest sense, infinite or not ; it is evidently vast, even beyond all possible imagination. And doubtless that part of it, which is opened to our view, is but as a point, in comparison of the whole plan of Providence, reaching throughout eternity past and future; in comparison of what is even now going on in the remote parts of the boundless universe; nay, in comparison of the whole scheme of this world. And therefore, that things lie beyond the natural reach of our faculties, is no sort of presumption agefinst the truth and reality of them : because it is cer- tain, there are innumerable things, in the constitution and government of the universe, which are thus beyond the natural reach of our faculties. Secondly , Analogy raises no presumption against any of the things con- tained in this general doctrine of Scripture now men- tioned, upon account of their being unlike the known • p. 149. Chap, n.] AGAINST MIRACLES. 1S3 course of nature. For there is no presumption at all from analogy, that the whole course of things, or divine government, naturally unknown to us, and every thing in it, is like to any thing in that which is known ; and therefore no peculiar presumption against any thing in the former, upon account of its being unlike to any thing in the latter. And in the constitution and natural government of the wor^d, as well^ as in the moral government of it, we see things, in a great degree, unlike one another: and therefore ought not to wond. r at such unlikeness between things visible and invisible. However, the scheme of Christianity is by no means entirely unlike the scheme of nature; as will appear in the following part of this Treatise. The notion of a miracle, considered as a proof of a divine mission, has bee n stated with great exactness by divines ; and is, I think, sufficiently understood by every one. There are also invisible miracles, the Incarnation ♦ of Christ, for instance, which, being secret, cannot be alleged as a proof of such a mission ; but require them- selves to be proved by visible miracles. Revelation itself too is miraculous ; and miracles are the proof of it ; and the supposed presumption against these shall pre- sently be considered. All which I have been observins: here is, that, whether we choose to call every thing in the dispensations of Providence, not discoverable with- out revelation, nor like the known course of things, miraculous; and whether the general Christian dispensa- tion now mentioned is to be called so, or not ; the fore- going observations seem certainly to show, that there is no presumption against it from the analogy of nature. II. There is no presuin])tion, from analogy, against some operations, which we should now call miraculous; particularly none against a revelation at the beginning of the world: nothing of such presuni[)tion against it, as is supposed to be implied or expressed in the word, mira- culous. For a miracle, in its very notion, is relative to a course of nature ; and inij)lies somewhat different from It, considered as being so. Now, either theie was no course of nature at the time which we are speaking of; or if there were, we aie not acquainted what the course 184 OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [Part IT of nature is, upon the first peopling of worlds. And therefore the question, whether mankind had a revelation made to them at that time, is to be considered, not as a question concerning a miracle, but as a common question of fact. And we have the like reason, be it more or less, to admit the report of tradition, concerning this question, and concerning common matters of fact of the same antiquity; for instance, what part of the earth was first peopled. Or thus: When mankind was first placed in this state, , there was a power exerted, totally different from the pre- sent course of nature. Now, whether this power, thus : wholly different from the present course of nature, for we cannot properly apply to it the word miraculous; whether this power stopped immediately after it had made man, or went on, and exerted itself further in giving him a revelation, is a question of the same kind, as whether an ordinary power exerted itself in such a particular de- gree and manner, or not. Or suppose the power exerted in the formation of the world be considered as miraculous, or rather, be called by that name ; the case will not be different : since it must be acknowledged, that such a power was exerted. For supposing it acknowledged, that our Saviour spent some years in a course of working miracles : there is no more presumption, worth mentioning, against his having exerted this miraculous power, in a certain degree greater, than in a certain degree less ; in one or two more instances, than in onf^ or two fewer; in this, than- in another manner. It is evident then, that thv^re can be no peculiar pre- sumption, from the analogy of nature, against supposing a revelation, when man was first placed upon earth. Add, that there does not appear the least intimation in history or tradition, that Religion was first reasoned' out: but the whole of history and tradition makes for the other side, that it came into the world by revelation. Indeed the state of Religion in the first ages, of which we have any account, seems to suppose and imply, that this was the original of it amongst mankind. And these refleclions together, without taking in the peculiar au- cbap.u.] against miracles. 185 tbority of Scripture, amount to real and a very material degree of evidence, that there was a revelation at the be- ginning of the world. Now this, as it is a confirmation of natural Religion, and therefore mentioned in the for.mer part of this Treatise ;* so hkewise it has a tend- ency to remove any prejudices against a subsequent revelation. III. But still it may be objected, that there is some peculiar presumption, from analogy, against miracles; particularlv against revelation, after the settlement and during the continuance of a course of nature. Now with regard to this supposed presumption, it is to be. observed in general, that before we can have ground for raising what can, with any propriety, be called an argument from analogy, for or against revelation con- sidered as somewhat miraculous, we must be acquainted with a similar or parallel case. But the history of some other world, seemingly in like circumstances with our own, is no more than a parallel case: and therefore no- tliini? short of this can be so. Yet, could we come at a presumptive proof, for or against a revelation, from being informed, whether such world had one, or not ; such a proof", being drawn from one single instance only, must be infinitely precarious. More particularly : First of all; There is a very strong presumption against common speculative truths, and against the most ordinary facts,, before the proof of them ; which yet is overcome by almost any proof. There is a presumption of millions to one, against the story of Caesar, or of any other man. For suppose a number of common facts so and so cir- cumstanced, of which one had no kind of proof, should happ( n to come into one's thoughts ; every one would, without any possible doubt, conclude them to be false. And the like may be said of a single common fact. And from hence it appears, that the question of importance, as to the matter l)ef()re us, is, concerning the degree of tite peculiar presumption supposed against miracles; not whether there be any peculiar presumption at all against them. For, if there be the presumption of millions to one, against the most common facts ; what can a small * r. J 13, &c 186 OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [FAax II. presumption, additional to this, amount to, tlicugh it be peculiar? It cannot be estimated, and is as nothing. The only material question is, whether there be any such presumption against miracles, as to render them in any sort incredible. Secondly ^ If we leave out the considera- tion of Religion, we are in such total darkness, upon what causes, occasions, reasons, or circumstances, the present course of nature depends; that there does not appear any improbabihty for or against supposing, that five or six thousand years may have given scope for causes, occasions, reasons, or circumstances, from whence miraculous interpositions may have arisen. And from this, joined with the foregoing observation, it will follow, that there must be a presumption, beyond all comparison, greater, against the particular common facts just now instanced in, than against miracles in general; before any evidence of either. But, Thirdlyy Take in the consid- eration of Religion, or the moral system of the world, and then we see distinct particular reasons for miracles: to afford mankind instruction additional to that of nature, and to attest the truth of it. And this gives a real credi- bility to the supposition, that it might be part of the original plan of things, that there should be miraculous interpositions. Then, Lastly, Miracles must not be com- pared to common natural events; or to events which, though uncommon, are similar to what we daily expe- rience: but to the extraordinary phenomena of nature. And then the comparison will be between the presump- tion against miracles, and the presumption against such imcommon appearances, suppose, as comets, vcvA against there being any such powers in nature as magnetism and electricity, so contrary to the properties of other bodies not endued with these powers. And before any one can determine, whether there be any peculiar presumption a2;ainst miracles, more than against other extraordinary things; he must consider, what, upon first hearing, would be the presumption against the last mentioned appearances and powers, to a person acquainted only with the daily, monthly, and annual course of nature re- specting this earth, and with those common powers of matter which we every da^^ sr^e. Chap. III.] AGAINST MIRACLES. 187 Upon all this I conclude ; that there certainly is no such presumplioa against miracles, as to render them in any wise incredible : that, on the contrary, our being able to discern reasons for them, gives a positive credibihty to the history of them, in cases where those reasons hold : and that it is by no means certain, that there is any pecu- liar presumption at all, from analogy, even in the lowest degree, against miracles, as distinguished from other ex- traordinary phenomena : though it is not worth while to perplex the reader with inquiries into the abstract nature of evidence, in order to determine a question, which, without such inquiries, we see* is of no importance. CHAP. III. _v OF OUR INCAPACITY OF JUDGING, WHAT WERE TO BE EXPECTED IN A REVELATION ; AND THE CREDIBILITY, FROM ANALOGY, THAT IT MUST CONTAIN THINGS APPEARING LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. Besides the objections against the evidence for Chris- tianity, many are alleged against the scheme of it ; against the whole manner in which it is put and left with the world; as well as against several particular relations in Scripture: objections drawn from the defi- <:iencies of revelation: from things in it appearing to men foolishness ;^ from its containing matters of offence, which have led, and it must have been foreseen would lead, into strange enthusiasm and superstition, and be made to serve the purposes of tyranny and wickedness; from its not being universal; and, which is a thing of the same kind, from its evidence not being so convinc- ing and satisfactory as it might have been: for this last is sometimes turned into a positive argument against its truth. t It would be tedious, indeed impossible, to enu-y mcrate the several particulars comprehended under the objections here referred to; the} being so various, according to tlie different fancies Of men. There are persons who tliink it a strong objection against the * V. 185. t 1 Cor. i. 28. % See Ch. vi. 188 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [Part IL authority of Scripture, that it is not composed by rules of art, agreed upon by critics, for pohte and correct writing. And the scorn is inexpressible, with which some of the prophetic parts of Scripture are treated: partly through the rashness of interpreters; but very much also, on account of the hieroglyphical and figurative language, in which they are left us. Some of the principal things of this sort shall be particularly considered in the following Chapters. But my design at present is to observe in general, with respect to this whole way of arguing, that, upon supposition of a revelation, it is highly credible beforehand, we should be incompetent judges of it to a great degree: and that it would contain many things appearing to us liable to great objections; in case we judge of it otherwise, than by the analogy of nature. And therefore, though objections against the evidence of Christianity are most seriously to be considered ; yet objections against Christianity itself are, in a great mea- sure, frivolous: almost all objections against it, except- ing those w^hich are alleged against the particular proofs of its coming from God. I express myself with caution, lest I should be mistaken to vilify reason ; which is indeed the only faculty we have wherewith to judge concerning any thing, even revelation itself : or be mis- understood to assert, that a supposed revelation cannot be proved false, from internal characters. For, it may contain clear immoralities or contradictions; and either of these would prove it false. Nor will I take upon me to affirm, that nothing else can possibly render any sup- posed revelation incredible. Yet still the observation above, is, I think, true beyond doubt ; that objections against Christianity, as distinguished from objections against its evidence, are frivolous. To make out this^ is the general design of the present Chapter. And with regard to the whole of it, I cannot but particularly wish, that the proofs might be attended to; rather than the assertions cavilled at, upon account of any unacceptable consequences, whether real or supposed, which may be drawn from them. For, after all, that which is true, must be admitted, though it should show us the short- ness of our faculties; and that we are in no wise jud^^ts Cmap. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 189 of many tilings, of which we are apt to think ourselves very competent ones. Nor will this be any objection with reasonable men, at least upon second thought it will not be any objection with such, against the justness of the following observations. As God governs the world and instructs his crea- tures, according to certain laws or rules, in the known course of nature ; known by reason together with ex- perience: so the Scripture informs us of a scheme of divine Providence, additional to this. It relates, that God has, by revelation, instructed men in things con- cerning his government, which they could not otherwise have known ; and reminded them of things, which they might otherwise know ; and attested the truth of the whole by miracles. Now if the natural and the re- vealed dispensation of things are both from God, if they coincide with each other, and together make up one scheme of Providence ; our being incompetent judges of one, must render it credible, that we may be incompe- tent judges also of the other. Since, upon experience, the acknowledged constitution and course of nature is found to be greatly different from what, before experi- ence, would have been expected ; and such as, men fancy, there lie great objections against : this renders it beforehand highly credible, that they may find the re- vealed dispensation likewise, if they judge of it as they do of the constitution of nature, very different from expectations formed beforehand ; and liable, in appear- ance, to great objections : objections against the scheme itself, and against the degrees and manners of the mira- culous interpositions, by which it was attested and carried on. Thus, siippose a prince to govern liis dominions in the wisest manner possible, by common known laws ; and that upon some exigencies he sliould suspend these laws ; and govern, in several mstances, in a different n^anner ; if one of his subjects were not a com])etent judii; ' iKiforehand, by what common rules the government sh()\dd or would be carried on ; it could not be expected, that the same person would be a competent judge, in what exigencies, or in what manner, or to what decree, those laws commonly observed would be suspended or 190 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION. [Pabt II. deviated from. If he were not a judge of the wisdom of the ordinary administration, there is no reason to think he would be a judge of the wisdom of the extraordinary. If he thought he had objections against the former; doubtless, it is highly supposable, he might think also, that he had objections against the latter. And thus, as we fall into infinite folhes and mistakes, whenever we pretend, otherwise than from experience and analogy, to judge of the constitution and course of nature; it is evi- dently supposable beforehand, that we should fall into as great, in pretending to judge, in like manner, concerning revelation. Nor is there any more ground to expect that this latter should appear to us clear of objections, than that the former should. These observations, relating to the whole of Chris- tianity, are applicable to inspiration in particular. As we are in no sort judges beforehand, by what laws or rules, in what degree, or by what means, it were to have been expected, that God would naturally instruct us; so upon supposition of his affording us light and instruction by revelation, additional to what he has afforded us by reason and experience, we are in no sort judges, by what methods, and in what proportion, it were to be expected that this supernatural light and instruction would be afforded us. We know not before- hand, what degree or kind of natural information it were to be expected God would afford men, each by his own reason and experience: nor how far he would enable and effectually dispose them to communicate it, what- ever it should be, to each other; nor whether the evidence of it would be certain, highly probable, or doubtful; nor whether it would be given with equal clearness and conviction to all. Nor could we guess, upon any good ground 1 mean, whether natural knowledge, or even the faculty itself, by which we are capable of attaining it, reason, would be given us at once, or gra- dually. In like manner, we are wholly ignorant, what degree of new knowledge, it were to be expected, God would give mankind by revelation, upon supposi- tion of his affording one: or how far, or in what way, he would interpose miraculously, to qualify them, to •lAT. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 1^1 whom he should originally make the revelation, for communicating the knowledge given by it ; and to secure their doing it to the age in which they should hve; and to secure its being transmitted to posterity. We are equally ignorant, whether the evidence of it would be certain or highly probable, or doubtful:* or whether all who should have any degree of instruction from it, and any degree of evidence of its truth, would have the same: or whether the scheme would be revealed at once, or unfolded gradually. Nay we are not in any sort able to judge, whether it were to have been expected, that the revelation should have been committed to writing; or left to be handed down, and consequently corrupted, by verbal tradition, and at length sunk under it, if mankind so pleased, and during such time as they are permitted, in the degree they evidently are, to act as they will. But it may be said, ^' that a revelation in some of the above mentioned circumstances, one, for instance, which was not committed to writing, and thus secured against danger of corruption, would not have answered its pur- pose." I ask, what purpose ? It would not have answered all the purposes, which it has now answered, and in the same degree: but it would have answered others, or the same in different degrees. And which of these were the purposes of God, and best fell in with his general government, we could not at all have determintd before- hand. Now since it has been shown, that we have no prin- ciples of reason, upon which to judge beforehand, how it were to be expected revelation should have been left, or what was most suitable to the divine plan of government, in any of the forementioned respects; it must be quite frivolous to object afterward as to any of them, against its being left in one way, rather than another: for this would be to object against things, upon account of their being different from expectations, which have been shown to be without reason. And thus we see, that the only question concerning the truth of Christianity is, whether it be a real re\'elation; not whether it be attended with every circumstance which we should have looked for: • See Chap. ri. 192 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [Part It and concerning the authority of Scripture, whether it be what it claims to be ; not whether it be a book of such sort, and so promulged, as weak men are apt to fancy a book containing a divine revelation should. And therefore, neither obscurity, nor seeming inaccuracy of style, nor various readings, nor early disputes about the authors of particular parts ; nor any other things of the like kind, though they had been much more consid- erable in degree than they are, could overthrow the authority of the Scripture : unless the Prophets, Apostles, or our Lord, had promised, that the book containing the divine revelation should -be secure from those things. Nor indeed can any objections overthrow such a kind of revelation as the Christian claims to be, since there are no objections against the morality of it,* but such as can show, that there is no proof of miracles wrought origi- nally in attestation of it ; no appearance of any thing miraculous in its obtaining in the world ; nor any of pro- phecy, that is, of events foretold, which human sagacity could not foresee. If it can be shown, that the proof alleged for all these is absolutely none at all, then is reve- lation overturned. But were it allowed, that the proof of any one or all of them is lower than is allowed ; yet, whilst any proof of them remains, revelation will stand upon much the same foot it does at present, as to all the purposes of life and practice, and ought to have the like influence upon our behaviour. From the foregoing observations too, it will follow, and those who will thoroughly examine into revelation will find it worth remarking ; that there are several ways of arguing, which, though just with regard to other writings^ are not applicable to Scripture : at least not to the pro- phetic parts of it. We cannot argue, for instance, that this cannot be the sense or intent of such a passage of Scripture; for, if it had, it would have been expressed more plainly, or have been represented under a more apt figure or hieroglyphic : yet we may justly argue thus, with respect to common books. And the reason of this difference is very evident ; that in Scripture we are not competent judges, as we are in common books, how • r. 198. XJhap. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 193 .plainly it were to have been expected, what is the true sense should have been expressed, or under how apt an image figured. The only question is, what appearance there is, that this is the sense; and scarce at all, how much more determinately or accurately it might have been expressed or figured. "But is it not self-evident, that internal improbabilities of all kinds weaken external probable procff?" Doubtless. But to what practical purpose can this be alleged here, when it has been proved before,* that real internal im- probabilities, which rise even to moral certainty, are overcome by the most ordinary testimony ; and when it now has been made appear, that we scarce know what are improbabihties, as to the matter we are here con- sidering : as it will further appear from what follows. For though from the observations above made it is manifest, that we are not in any sort competent judges, what supernatural instruction were to have been expected ; and though it is self-evident, that the objections of an incompetent judgment must be frivolous; yet it may be proper to go one step further, and observe ; that if men will be regardless of these things, and pretend to judge of the Scripture by preconceived expectations; the ana- logy of nature shows beforehand, not only that it is highly credible they may, but also probable that they will, ima- gine they have strong objections against it, however really unexceptionable: for so, prior to experience, they would think they had, against the circumstances, and degrees, and the whole manner of that instruction, which is afforded by the ordinary course of nature. Were the instruction which God affords to brute creatures by in- stincts and mere propcnsions, and to mankind by these together with reason, matter of proba1)lc proof, and not of certain observation ; it would be rejected as incredible, in many instances of it, only upon account of the nieauf by which this instruction is given, the seeming dispro- portions, the limitations, necessary conditions, and cir- cumstances of it. For instance: would it not have ])ccn tliought highly improbable, that men should have been so much more capable of discovering, even to certainty, ♦ p. 181. N 194 THE CREDIBTLITY OF REVELATION [Part 11. the general laws of matter, and the magnitudes, paths, and revohitions, of heavenly bodies ; than the occasions and cures of distempers, and many other things, in which human hfe seems so much more nearly concerned, than in astronomy? How capricious and irregular a way of information would it be said, is that of invention, by means of which nature instructs us in matters of science, and in many thhigs, upon which the affairs of the world greatly depend: that a man should, by this faculty, be made ac- quainted with a thing in an instant, when perhaps he is thinking of somewhat else, which he has in vain been searching after, it may be, for years. So likewise the imperfections attending the only method, by which nature enables and directs us to communicate our thoughts to each other, are innumerable. Language is, in its very nature, inadequate, ambiguous, liable to infinite abuse^ even from negligence; and so hable to it from design, that every man can deceive and betray by it. And, to mention but one instance more; that brutes, without reason, should act, in many respects, with a sagacity and foresight vastly greater than what men have in those re- spects, would be thought impossible. Yet it is certain they do act with such superior foresight : whether it be their own, indeed, is another question. From these things,, it is highly credible beforehand, that upon supposition God should afford men some additional instruction by revelation, it would be with circumstances, in manners, degrees, and respects, which we should be apt to fancy we had great objections against the credibility of. Nor are the objections against the Scripture, nor against Christianity in general, at all more or greater, than the analogy of nature would beforehand — not perhaps give ground to expect ; for this analogy may not be sufficient,, in some cases, to ground an expectation upon; but no more nor greater, than analogy would show it, before- hand, to be supposable and credible, that there might seem to he against revelation. By applying these general observations to a particular objection, it will be more distinctly seen, how they are applicable to others of the like kind : and indeed to almost all objections against Christianity, as distinguished Chap, m.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 195 from objections against its evidence. It appears from Scripture, that, as it was not unusual in the apostohc age, for persons, upon their conversion to Christianity, to be endued "^'ith miraculous gifts; so, some of those persons exercised these gifts in a strangely irregular and disor- derly manner ; and this is made an objection against their beins: reallv miraculous. Now the foreo;oin2: obser- vations quite remove this objection, how considerable soever it may appear at first sight. For, consider a person endued w^ith any of these gifts; for instance, that of tongues : it is to be supposed, that he had the same power over this miraculous gift, as he would have had over it, had it been the effect of habit, of study and use, as it ordinarily is ; or the same power over it, as he had over any other natural endowment. Consequently, he would use it in the same manner he did any other ; either regularly, and upon proper occasions only, or irregularly, and upon improper ones: according to his sense of de- cency, and his character of prudence. Where then is the objection.^ Why, if this miraculous power was indeed given to the world to propagate Christianity, and attest the truth of it, we might, it seems, have expected, that other sort of persons should have been chosen to be invested with it; or that these should, at the same time, have been endued with prudence; or that they should have been con- tinually restrained and directed in the exercise of it: i. e. that God should have miraculously interposed, if at all, in a different manner, or higher degree. But, from the observations made above, it is undeniably evident, that we are not judge s in what degrees and manners it were to have been expected he should miracidously interpose; upon supposition of his doing it in some degree and manner. Nor, in the natural course of Providence, are superior gifts of memory, eloquence, knowledge, and other talents of great influence, conferred only on per- sons of prudence and decency, or such as are disposed to make the properest use of them. Nor is the instruc- tion and admonition naturally afforded us for the conduct of life, particularly in our education, commonly given in a manner the most suited to recommend it; but often with circumstances apt to prejudice us against such instruction. N 2 196 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [P^rt II. One might go on to add, that there is a great resem- blance between the hght of nature and of revelation, in several other respects. Practical Christianity, or that faith and behaviour which renders a man a Christian, is a plain and obvious thing : like the common rules of conduct, with respect to our ordinary temporal affairs. The more distinct and particular knowledge of those things, the study of which the Apostle calls going on unto 'perfection* and of the prophetic parts of revelation, like many parts of natural and even civil knowledge, may require very exact thought, and careful considera- tion. The hinderances too, of natural, and of superna- tural light and knowledge, have been of the same kind. And as it is owned the whole scheme of Scripture is not yet understood ; so, if it ever comes to be under- stood, before the restitution of all things,^ and without miraculous interpositions ; it must be in the same way as natural knowledge is come at: by the continuance and progress of learning and of liberty ; and by parti- cular persons attending to, comparing, and pursuing, intimations scattered up and down it, which are over- looked and disregarded by the generality of the world. For this is the way, in w^iich all improvements are made ; by thoughtful men's tracing on obscure hints, as it were, dropped us by nature accidentally, or which seem to come into our minds by chance. Nor is it at all incredible, that a book, which has been so long in the possession of mankind, should contain many truths as yet undiscovered. For, all the same phenomena, and the same faculties of investigation, from which such great discoveries in natural knowledge have been made in the present and last age, were equally in the posses- sion of mankind, several thousand years before. And possibly it might be intended, that events, as they come to pass, should open and ascertain the meaning of se- veral parts of Scripture. It may be objected, that this analogy fails in a mate- rial respect: for that natural knowledge is of little or no consequence. But I have been speaking of the general instruction which nature does or does not afford us. * lleb. vi. 1. t Acts iii. 21. Chap. IIT.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 197 And besides, some parts of Datural knowledge, in the more common restrained sense of trie words, are of the f greatest consequence to the ease and convenience of ife. But suppose the analogy did, as it does not, fail in this respect; yet it might be abundantly supplied, from the whole constitution and course of nature: which shows, that God does not dispense his gifts according to our notions of the advantage and consequence they would be of to us. And this in general, with his method of dispensing knowledge in particular, would together make out an analogy full to the point before us. But it may be objected still further and more gene- rally ; " The Scripture represents the world as in a state of ruin, and Christianity as an expedient to recover it, to help in these respects where nature fails: in particu- lar, to supply the deficiencies of natural light. Is it credible then, that so many ages should have been let pass, before a matter of such a sort, of so great and so general importance, was made known to mankmd; and then that it should be made known to so small a part of them ? Is it conceivable, that this supply should be so very deficient, should have the like obscurity and doubt- fulness, be liable to the like perversions, in short, lie open to all the like objections, as the light of nature itself .P* Without determining how fiir this, in fact, is so, I answer; it is by no means incredible, that it might be so, if the light of nature and of revelation be from the same hand. Men are naturally liable to diseases: for which God, in his good providence, has provided natural remedies. t But remedies existing in nature have be( n unknown to mankind for many ages : are known but to few now: probably many valuable ones aie not known yet. Great has been and is the obscu- rity and difficulty, in the nature and application of them. Circumstances scein often to make them very improper, where they are absolutely necessary. It is after long labour and study, and many unsuccessful endeavours, that they are brought to be as useful as they are; after high contempt and absolute rejection of tlie most useful we have; and after disputes and doubts, which have • Cli. vi. -f Ch. V. 198 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [Part II. seemed to h? endless. The best remedies too, when unskilfully, much more if dishonestly applied, may pro- duce new diseases; and with the rightest application the success of them is often doubtful. In many cases they are not at all effectual: where they are, it is often very slowly: and the application of them, and the neces- sary regimen accompanying it, is, not uncommonly, so disagreeable, that some will not submit to them.; and satisfy themselves with the excuse, that, if they would, it is not certain whether it would be successful. And many persons, who labour under diseases, for which there are known natural remedies, are not so happy as to be always, if ever, in the way of them. In a word, the remedies which nature has provided for diseases are neither certain, perfect, nor universal. And indaed the samQ principles of arguing, which would lead us to con- clude, that they must be so, would lead us likewise to conclude, that there could be no occasion for them ; i. e. that there could be no diseases at all. And therefore our experience that there are diseases show*s, that it is credible beforehand, upon supposition nature has pro- vided remedies for them, that these remedies may be, as by experience we find they are, not certain, nor per- fect, nor universal; because it shows, that the princi- ples upon which we should expect the contrary are fallacious. And now, what is the just consequence from all these things.^ Not that reason is no judge of what is offered to us as being of divine revelation. For this would be to infer that we are unable to judge of any thing, because we are unable to judge of all things. Reason can, and it ought to judge, not only of the meaning, but also of the morality and the evidence of revelation. First, It is the province of reason to judge of the morality of the Scripture ; i. e. not whether it contains things different from what we should have expected from a wise, just, and good Being ; for objections from hence have been now obviated : but whether it contains things plainly contradictory to wisdom, justice, or goodness; to what the light of nature teaches us of God. And I know nothing of this sort objected against Scripture, excepting such ob- Chap. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS 199 jections as are formed upon suppositions, which would equally conclude^ that the constitution ot nature is con- tradictory to wisdom, justice or goodness ; which most certainly it is not. Indeed there are some particular precepts in Scripture, given to particular persons, re- quiring actions, which would be immoral and vicious, were it not for such precepts. But it is easy to s:e, that all these are of such a kind, as that the precept changes the whole nature of the case and of the action ; and both constitutes and shows that not to be unjust or immoral, which, prior to the precept, must have appeared and really have been so : which may well be, since none of these precepts are contrary to immutable morality. If it were commanded, to cultivate the principles, and act from the spirit of treachery, ingratitude, cruelty ; the command would not alter the nature of the case or of the action, in any of these instances. But it is quite otiierwise in precepts, which require only the doing an external action : for instance, takin2: away the property, or life of any. For men have no right to either lite or property, but what arises solely from the grant of God : wlu n this grant is revoked, they cease to have any right at all in either: and when this revocation is made known, as surely it is possible it may be, it must cease to be unjust to deprive them of either. And though a course of external acts, which without command would be im- moral, must make an immoral habit ; yet a few detached commands have no such natural tendency. I thought proper to say thus much of the few Scripture precepts, which require, not vicious actions, but actions which would have been vicious, had it not ha n for such pre- cepts ; because they are sometimes weakly urged as immoral, and great weight is laid upon objpctions drawn from them. But to me there seems no difticuky at all in these prec^ pts, but what arises from their beinc: of- fences : I. c. from their being liable to be perverted, as indeed thev are, by wicked designing men, to serve the most horrid purposes ; and, perhaps, to mislead the weak and enthusiastic. And (objections from this head are i-ot obj.' ctions agamst revelation ; but aiiamsi the whole notion of religion, as a trial : and against the general 200 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION, &C. [Part constitution of nature. Secondly, Reason is al)le to judge^ and must, of the evidence of revelation, and of the ob- jections urged against that evidence : which shall be the subject of a following Chapter.* But the consequence of the foregoing observations is^ that the question upon which the truth of Christianity depends is scarce at all, what objections there are against its scheme, since there are none against the morality of it ; but what objections there are against its evidence ; or, v^hat proof there remains of it, after due allowances made for the objections against that proof: because it has been shown, that the objections against Christianity, as distin- guished from objections against its evidence, are frivolous. For surely very little weight, if any at all, is to be laid upon a way of arguing and objecting, which, when ap- plied to the general constitution of nature, experience shows not to be conclusive: and such, I think, is the whole way of objecting treated of throughout this Chap- ter. It is resolvable into principles, and goes upon sup- positions, which mislead us to think, that the Author of Nature would not act, as we experience he does; or would act, in such and such cases, as we experience he does not in like cases. But the unreasonableness of this way of objecting will appear yet more evidently from hence, that the chief things thus objected against are justified, as shall be further shown,! by distinct, parti- cular, and full analogies, in the constitution and course of nature. But it is to be remembered, that, as frivolous as ob- jections of the foregoing sort against revelation are, yet, when a supposed revelation is more consistent with itself, and has a more general and uniform tendency to pro- mote virtue, than, all circumstances considered, could have been expected from enthusiasm and political views; this is a presumptive proof of its not proceeding from them, and so of its truth: because we are competent judges, what might have been expected from enthusiasn* - and pohtical views. * Cbap. viL f Ch, iv. latter part, and v. vi. Caip. IV.J CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME, ETC. 201 CHAP. IV. OF CHRISTIANITY, CONSIDERED AS A SCHEME OR CONSTI- TUTION, IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. It hath been now shown,* that the analogy of nature renders it highly credible beforehand, that, supposing ^ revelation to be made, it must contain many things very different from what we should have expected, and such as appear open to great objections: and that this obser- vation, in good measure, takes off the force of those ob- jections, or rather precludes them. But it may be alleged, that this is a very partial answer to such objections, or a very unsatisfactory way of obviating them : because it doth not show at all, that the things objected against can be wise, just, and good; much less, that it is credible they are so. It will therefore be proper to show this distinctly; by applying to these objections against the wisdom, justice, and goodness of Christianity, the answer abovet given to the like objections against the constitu- tion of Nature: before we consider the particular analo- gies in the latter, to the particular things objected against in the former. Now that Avhich affords a sufficient answer to objections against the wisdom, justice, and goodness of the constitution of Nature, is its being a con- stitution, a system, or scheme, imperfectly comprehended ; a scheme in which means are made use of to accomplish ends ; and which is carried on by general laws. For from these things it has been proved, not only to be ])()ssil)le, but also to be credible, that those things which are objected against may be consistent with wisdom, justice, and goodness ; nay, may be instances of them : and even that the constitution and government of Nature may be perfect in the highest possible degree. If Chris- tianity then be a scheme, and of tlu^ like kind ; it is evi- dent, the like objections against it nmst admit of the like answer. And, ^ Tn the forpgoinjf ChapU r. f Pnrt T. fh. \ ii. lo wliicli ihis nil n\oi\^ rrfrrs. ^02 CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME [Part II. I. Christianity is a scheme, quite beyond our compre- hension. The moral government of God is exercised, by gradually conducting things so in the course of his providence, that every one, at length and upon the whole, shall receive according to his deserts ; and neither fraud nor violence, but truth and right, shall finally pre- vail. Christianity is a particular scheme under this ge- neral plan of Providence, and a part of it, conducive to its completion, with regard to mankind : consisting itself also of various parts, and a mysterious economy, which has been carrying on from the time the world came into its present wretched state, and is still carrying on, for its recovery, by a divine person, the Messiah ; who is to gather together in one the children of God, that are scatter- ed abroad,'^ and establish an everlasting kingdom, wherein dwelleth righteousness. \ And in order to it ; after various manifestations of things, relating to this great and gene- ral scheme of Providence, through a succession of many ages: (For the Spirit of Christ which was in the prophets, testified beforehand his sufferings, and the glory that should follow : unto whom it was i^evealed, that not unto themselves, but unto us they did minister the things which are now re- ported unto us by them that have preached the Gospel; which things the angels desire to look into :t) — after various dispensations looking forward and preparatory to, this final salvation : in the fulness of time, when infinite wis- dom thought fit ; He, being in the form of God, — made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men : and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death, even the death of the cross: wherefore God. also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name, which is above every name : that at the name of Jems every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in the earth, and things under the earth : and that every tongue should confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.^ Parts likewise of this economy are the miraculous mission of the Holy Ghost, and his ordinary assistances given to good men : tlie invisible government, which Christ at present exercises over his church : that * John ri. 52. t ^ ^3. t 1 Vet. \. 11, 12. , in order to the carrying on its several parts into execution. Thus, in the daily course of natural providence, God operates in the very same manner, as m the dispensation of Chris- tianity ; making one thing subservient to another; this, to somewhat further; and soon, (hrctiuh a progressive series of means, which extend, both backward and for- ward, beyond our utmost view. Of this maimer of operation, every thing we see in the course of nature is as much an instance, as any part of the ('hristian dispensation. 208 THE APPOINTMENT OP [PartII. CHAP. V. OF THE PARTICULAR SYSTEM OF CHRISTIANITY; THE APPOINTMENT OF A MEDIATOR, AND THE REDEMPTION OF THE WORLD BY HIM. There is not, I think, any thing relating to Christi- anity, which has been more objected against, than the mediation of Christ, in some or other of its parts. Yet upon thorough consideration, there seems nothing less justly liable to it. For, I. The whole analogy of nature removes all imagined presumption against the general notion of a Mediator beticeen God and man* For we find all living creatures are brought into the world, and their life in infancy is preserved, by the instrumentality of others; and every satisfaction of it, some way or other, is bestowed by the like means. So that the visible government, which God exercises over the world, is by the instrumentahty and mediation of others. And how far his invisible govern- ment be or be not so, it is impossible to determine at all by reason. And the supposition, that part of it is so, appears, to say the least, altogether as credible, as the contrary. There is then no sort of objection, from the light of nature, against the general notion of a mediator between God and man, considered as a doctrine of Christianity, or as an appointment in this dispensation: since we find by experience, that God does appoint medi- ators, to be the instruments of good and evil to us: the instruments of his justice and his mercy. And the ob- jection here referred to is urged, not against mediation in that high, eminent, and pecuhar sense, in which Christ is our mediator; but absolutely against the whole notion itself of a mediator at all. IT. As we must suppose, that the world is under the proper moral government of God, or in a state of religion, before we can enter into consideration of the revealed doctrine, concerning the redemption of it by Christ: so * 1 Tim. ii, 5. CnAP. v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 209 that supposition is here to be distinctly taken notice of. Now the divine moral government which religion teaches lis, implies, that the consequence of vice shall be misery, in some future state, by the righteous judgment of God. That such consequent punishment shall take effect by his appointment, is necessarily imphed. But, as it is not in any sort to be supposed, that we are made acquainted with all the ends or reasons, for which it is fit future punishments should be inflicted, or why God has ap- pointed such and such consequent misery should follow vice ; and as we are altogether in the dark, how or in what manner it shall follow, by what immediate occa- sions, or by the instrumentality of what means; there is no absurdity in supposing it m.ay follow in a way analo- gous to that, in which many miseries follow such and such courses of action at present; poverty, sickness, in- famy, untimely death by diseases, death from the hands of civil justice. There is no absurdity in supposing future punishment may follow wickedness of course, as we speak, or in the way of natural consequence from God's original constitution of the world : from the nature he has given us, and from the condition in which he places us ; or in a like manner, as a person rashly trifling upon a precipice, in the way of natural consequence, falls down ; in the way of natural consequence, breaks his limbs, suppose; in the way of natural consequence of this, without help, perishes. Some good men may perhaps be offended with hear- ing it spoken of as a supposable thing that future punish- ments of wickedness may be in the way of natural con- sequence : as if this were taking the execution of justice out of the hands of God, and giving it to nature. But they should remember, that when things come to pass according to the course of nature, this does not hinder them from bcins: his doing, who is the God of nature : and that the Scrij)ture ascribes those ])iniisluuents to divine justice, which are known to be natural ; and which must be called so, when distinguished from such as are miraculous. But after all, this siq)positi(»n, or rather this way of speaking, is here made use of only byway of illustration of the subject before us. For since it must o 210 THE APPOINTMENT OF [Part IL be admitted, that the future punishment of wickedness is not a matter of arbitrary appointment, but of reason, equity, and justice ; it comes, for ought I see, to the same thing, whether it is supposed to be inflicted in a way analogous to that, in which the temporal punishments of vice and folly are inflicted, or in any other way. And though there were a difference, it is allowable, in the present case, to make this supposition, plainly not an in- credible one ; that future punishment may follow wicked- ness in the way of natural consequence, or according to some general laws of government already established in the universe. III. Upon this supposition, or even w^ithout it, we may observe somewhat, much to the present purpose, in the constitution of nature or appointments of Providence: the provision which is made, that all the bad natural consequences of men's actions should not always actually follow ; or that such bad consequences, as, according to the settled course of things, would inevitably have fol- lowed if not prevented, should, in certain degrees, be prevented. W e are apt presumptuously to imagine, that the world might have been so constituted, as that there would not have been any such thing as misery or evil. On the contrary we find the Author of Nature permits it: but then he has provided reliefs, and in many cases perfect remedies for it, after some pains and diffi- culties; reliefs and remedies even for that evil, wd^ich is the fruit of our own misconduct; and which, in the course of nature, would have continued, and ended in our destruction, but for such remedies. And this is an instance both of severity and of indulgence, in the con- stitution of nature. Thus all the bad consequences, now mentioned, of a man's trifling upon a precipice, miglit be prevented. And though all were not, yet some of them might, by proper interposition, if not rejected : by another's coming to the rash man's relief, widi his own laying hold on that relief, in such sort as the case re- quired. Persons may do a great deal themselves towards preventing the bad consequences of their follies: and more may be done by themselves, together with the assistance of others their fellow creatures ; which assist- Chap. V.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 211 ance nature requires and prompts iis to. This is the general constitution of the world. Now suppose it had been so constituted, that after such actions were done, as were foreseen naturally to draw after them misery to the doer, it should have been no more in human power to have prevented that naturally consequent misery, in any instance, than it is in all : no one can say, whether such a more severe constitution of things might not yet have been really good. But, that, on the contrarv, provision is made by nature, that we may and do, to so great de- gree, prevent the bad natural effects of our follies; this may be called mercy or compassion in the original con- stitution of the w^orld: compassion, as distinguished from goodness in general. And, the whole known constitu- tion and course of things affording us instances of such compassion, it would be according to the analogy of na- ture, to hope, that, however ruinous the natural conse- quences of vice might be, from the general laws of God's government over the universe ; yet provision might be made, possibly might have been originally made, for preventing those ruinous consequences from inevitably following : at least from following universally, and in all cases. Many, I am sensible, will wonder at finding this made a question, or spoken of as in any degree doubtful. The generality of mankind are so far from having that awful sense of things, which the present state of vice and misery and darkness seems to make but reasonable, that they have scarce any apprehension or thought at all about this matter, any way: and some serious persons may have spoken unadvisedly concerning it. But let us ob- serve, what we experience to be, and what, from the very constitution of nature, cannot but be, the conse- quences of irregular and disorderly behaviour : even of such rashness, wilfulness, neglects, as we scarce call vi- cious. Now it is natural to apprehend, that the bad con- sequences of irreguleirity will be greater, in proportion as the irregularity is so. And there is no comparison be- tween these irregularities, and the greater instances of vice, or a dissolute profligate disregard to all religion ; if there be any thinir at all in religion. For consider whai 212 THE APPOINTMENT OF [Part H: it is for creatures, moral agents, presumptuously to in- troduce that confusion and misery into the kingdom of God, which mankind have in fact introduced: to blas- pheme the Sovereign Lord of all ; to contemn his autho- rity ; to be injurious, to the degree they are, to their fel- low creatures, the creatures of God. Add that the effects of vice in the present world are often extreme misery, .irretrievable ruin, and even death : and upon putting all this together, it will appear, that as no one can say, in what degree fatal the unprevented consequences of vice may be, according to the general rule of divine govern- ment ; so it is by no means intuitively certain, how far these consequences could possibly, in the nature of the thing, be prevented, consistently with the eternal rule of right, or with what is, in fact, the moral constitution of nature. However, there would be large ground to hope, that the universal government was not so severely strict, but that there was room for pardon, or for hav- ing those penal consequences prevented. Yet, IV. There seems no probability, that any thing we could do would alone and of itself prevent them : pre- vent their following, or being inflicted. But one would think at least, it were impossible that the contrary should be thought certain. For we are not acquainted with the whole of the case. We are not informed of all the reasons, which fender it fit that future punishments should be inflicted: and therefore cannot know, whether any thing we could do would make such an alteration, as to render it fit that they should be remitted. We do not know what the whole natural or appointed consequences of vice are ; nor in what way they would follow, if not prevented : and therefore can in no sort say, whether we could do any thing which would be sufficient to prevent them. Our ignorance being thus manifest, let us recol- lect the analogy of Nature or Providence. For, though this may be but a slight ground to raise a positive opin- ion upon, in this matter ; yet it is sufficient to answer a mere arbitrary assertion, without any kind of evidence, urged by way of objection against a doctrine, the proof of which is not reason, but revelation. Consider then : people ruin their fortunes by extravagance ; they bring Cha p. v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 213 diseases upon themselves by excess; they incur the pe nalties of civil laws ; and surely civil government is nntural; will sorrow for these follies past, and behaving well for the future, alone and of itself prevent the na- tural consequences of them? On the contrary, men's natural abilities of helping themselves are often impaired; or if not, yet they are forced to be beholden to the assistance of others, upon several accounts, and in dif- ferent ways ; assistance which they would have had no occasion for, had it not been for their misconduct ; but which, in the disadvantageous condition they had reduced themselves to, is absolutely necessary to their recovery, and retrieving their affairs. Now since this is our case, considering ourselves merely as inhabitants of this world, and as having a temporal interest here, under the natural government of God, which however has a great deal moral in it ; why is it not supposable that this may be our case also, in our more important capacity, as under his perfect moral government, and having a more gene- ral and future interest depending? If we have misbe- haved in this higher capacity, and rendered ourselves obnoxious to the future punishment, which God has annexed to vice: it is plainly credible, that behaving well for the time to come may be — not useless, God for- bid— but wholly insufficient, alone and of itself, to pre- vent that punishment : or to put us in the condition, which we should have been in had we preserved our innocence. And though we ought to reason wnth all reverence, whenever we reason concerning the divine conduct : yet it may be added, that it is clearly contrary to all our notions of government, as well as to what is, in fact, the general constitution of nature, to suppose, that doing well for th(^ future should, in all cases, prevent all the judicial bad consequences of having done evil, or all the punishment annexed to disobedience. And we have manifestly nothing from whence to determine, in what degree, and in what cases, reformation would pre- vent this punishment, even supposing that it would in some. And though the (efficacy of repentance itself alone, to prevent what mankind had rendered themselves *214 THE APPOINTMENT OF [Part II. -obnoxious to, and recover what they had forfeited, is now insisted upon, in opposition to Cliristianity ; yet, by the general prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices over the heathen world, this notion of repentance alone being sufficient to expiate guilt, appears to be contrary to the general sense of mankind. Upon the whole then ; had the laws, the general laws of God's government been permitted to operate, with- out any interposition in our behalf, the future punish- ment, for ought we know to the contrary, or have any, reason to think, must inevitably have followed, notwith- standing any thing we could have done to prevent it. Now, V. In this darkness, or this hght of nature, call it which you please, revelation comes in ; confirms every doubting fear, which could enter into the heart of man, concerning the future unprevented consequence of wick- edness ; supposes the world to be in a state of ruin (a supposition which seems the very ground of the Chris- tian dispensation, and which, if not provable by reason, yet is in no wise contrary to it;) teaches us too, that the .rules of divine government are such, as not to admit of pardon immediately and directly upon repentance, or by the sole efficacy of it: but then teaches at the same time, what nature might justly have hoped, that the moral government of the universe was not so rigid, but that there was room for an interposition, to avert the fatal consequences of vice; which therefore, by this means, does admit of pardon. Revelation teaches us, that the unknown laws of God's more general government, no less than the particular laws by which we experience he governs us at present, are compassionate,* as well as good in the more general notion of goodness: and that he hath mercifully provided, that there should be an interposition to prevent the destruction of human kind ; whatever that destruction unprevented would have been. God so loved the vjorld, that he gave his only begotten Son, ihat whosoever believethy not, to be sure, in a speculative, but in a practical sense, that whosoever believeth in him, should not perish:^ gave his Son in the same way of * p. 210, &c. t John iii. IG. Chap, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 215 .goodness to the world, as he affords particular persons the friendly assistance of their fellow creatures: when, without it, their temporal ruin would be the certain consequence of their follies: in the same way of good- ness, I say; though in a transcendent and infinitely higher degree. And the Son of God loved us, and gave himself for us, with a love, which he himself compares to that of human friendship: though, in this case, all comparisons must fall infinitely short of the thing in- tended to be illustrated by them. He interposed in such a manner as was necessary and effectual to prevent that execution of justice upon sinners, which God had ap- ^ pointed should otherwise have been executed upon them : or in such a manner, as to prevent that punishment . from actually following, which, according to the general laws of divine government, must have followed the sins of the world, had it not been for such interposition.* If any thing here said should appear, upon first thought, inconsistent with divine goodness; a second, I am persuaded, will entirely remove that appearance. For were we to suppose the constitution of things to be such, as that the whole creation must have perished, had it not been for somewhat, which God had appointed should be, in order to prevent that ruin: even this sup- position would not be inconsistent, in any degree, with the most absolutely perfect goodness. But still it may be thought, that this whole manner of treating the sub- ject before us supposes mankind to be naturally in a very strange state. And truly so it does. But it is not Christianity which has put us into this state. Whoever * It cannot, 1 suppo'ip, he imagined, evrn by the most nirsory rendrr, that it is, in any son, JifRrmctl or impliiil in any tliin? said in ti.'is clia[ l«T, tl at nonn can have thf Ih*!!* fit of ih«' ppni-nil n demplion, hut snch as have the advantage of b«'ing matle ncqiiHinlod with ii in the pn vt nL life. But it may be needfnl to mention, that s*'veral ijiie>iions, wliicli have hreii l)ronplit into the sn'jert before ns, and detennined, are not in the lea^l entered into here : qiieNtions which havi* been, I fi ar. rashly deter- iiiin*'«l atul perli!ii)S with equ.il rashness Ct)ntr.iry ways. For instanw, whether Cod CNtuld have avi-d the world by other n.eans than llie Heath of Christ, consi>leiitly ■with llie g[Pt eral laws of his peivernment. And liad not Clirist come into the world, •wl at would have l)een the future comlition <»f the l>etter sort of men ; those just persons »)ver the far*- of tlie pjirih. for whom .NTana'ses in his prayer H»i«i« rls, n*|>«-n- Iflnre was not appfiinted. The meaning of the first of these (ju«"slion< is ^really an)bi(rii,)u«. : au'l Ufilher of iheni r-.ni pmpi rly Iw answere.i. without pei ne u|><)n ttiHt in4iiit» ly absurd sup|>osition. that we know llie whole of the chm'. And perluips the ▼ery inipiiry, /f/tnt would hafe /oi/owfl, if (imi hnd not tionr at he kim. ni«y uiva in it some very gr»'ni iniproprii ly : and oiijjlit not t«» !x' mrr ed on any further than tiec« s^;.ry to help ow partial and n»,;dr«piale eono'plions of things. 216 THE APPOINTMENT OF [Part II. will consider the manifold miseries, and the extreme wickedness of the world; that the best have great wrongnesses within themselves, which they complain of, and endeavour to amend ; but that the generality grow more profligate and corrupt with age; that even mora- lists thought the present state to be a state of punish- ment: and, what might be added, that the earth our habitation has the appearances of being a ruin : whoever, I say, will consider all these, and some other obvious things, will think he has little reason to object against the Scripture account, that mankind is in a state of degradation; against this being the fact: how difficult soever he may think it to account for, or even to form a. distinct conception of the occasions and circumstances of it. But that the crime of our first parents was the occasion of our being placed in a more disadvantageous condition, is a thing throughout and particularly analo- gous to what we see in the daily course of natural pro- vidence; as the recovery of the world by the interposi- tion of Christ has been shown to be so in general. VI. The particular manner in which Christ interposed in the redemption of the world, or his office Mediator, in the largest sense, between God and man, is thus repre- sented to us in the Scripture. He is the light of the world;* the revealer of the will of God in the most eminent sense. He is a propitiatory sacrifice ;t the Lamb of God:X and, as he voluntarily offered himself up, he is styled our High Priest. § And, which seems of peculiar weight, he is described beforehand in the Old Testament, under the same characters of a priest, and an expiatory victim. II And whereas it is objected, that all this is merely by way of allusion to the sacrifices of the Mosaic law, the Apostle on the contrary affirms, that the law was a shadow of good things to come, and not the very image of the things:^ and that the priests that offer gifts according to the law — serine unto the example and shadow of heavenly things, as Moses was admonished • * John i. and viii. 12. t Koni. iii. 25. v. 11. 1 Cor. v. 7 Eph. v. 2. 1 Jolin ii. 2. Mat. xxvi. 28. i .Jolin i. 5^9, yo, and lliroiichoiit tlu- l)Ook of Revt-Jation. ^ ThroiifihouL llu- cpULle to llif lit brews. II Ivii. 1,11. J);.i.. IX. 2 J. P.-. IX 1. ^ Heb. X. 1. Chap, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 217 of God, when he was about to make the tabernacle. For see, saith he, that thou make all things according to the pattern showed to thee in the mount:* i. e, the Levitical priesthood was a shadow of the priesthood of Christ; in hke manner as the tabernacle made by Moses was according to that show^ed him in the mount The priesthood of Christ, and the tabernacle in the mount, were the originals: of the former of which the Levitical priesthood was a type ; and of the latter the tabernacle made by Moses was a copy. The doctrine of this epistle then plainly is, that the legal sacrifices were allusions to the great and final atonement to be made by the blood of Christ; and not that this was an allusion to those. Nor can any thing be more express or determinate than the following pas- sage. It is not possible that the blood of bidls and of goats should take away sin. Wherefore when he cometh info the world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering, i. e. of bulls and of goats, thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me. Lo, I come to do thy will, 0 God. By which will we are .sanctified, through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.t And to add one passage more of the like kind: Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many; and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time, vxithout sin; i.e. without bearing sin, as he did at his first coming, by being an offering for it; without having our iniquities again laid upon him, without being any more a sin-offering: — iinto them that look for him shalC he appear the second time, without sin, unto salvation. t Nor do the inspired writers at all confine themselves to this manner of speaking concerning the satisfaction of Christ; but declare an efficacy in what he did and suffered for us, additional to and beyond mere instruction, ex- ample, and government, in great variety of expression: That Jesus .should die for that nation, the Jews: and not for that nation only, but that also, plainly by the efficacy of bis death, he should gather together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad. § that he suffered for sins, the just for the unjust :\\ that he gave his life, himself a ransom:^ i\\\xt ice are bought, bought with a price:** that ♦ vill. 4, S. t T'' '> X. 4, 5, 7, 9, 10. t"' l> i»-28- ^.loliii xi. ol, 52. II I P^i. iii. Iv^. ^ Malt. xx. *-^8. Mark x. 45. 1 Tim. IL 6,. *• '^ Vn. ii. 1. Kev. xiv. 4. 1 Cor. vi. 20. 218 THE APPOINTMENT OF [Part II. he redeemed us with his blood: redeemed us from the curse of the laWy being made a curse for us ;* that he is our advocate, intercessor, and proj)itiation ;t that he was made j)erfect, or consummate, through sufferings; and being thus made perfect, he became the author of salvation :X that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself; by the death of his Son, by the cross; not imputing their trespasses unto them:§ and lastly, that through death he destroyed him that had the power of death.W Christ then liaving thus humbled himself , and become obedient to death, even the death of the cross; God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name, which is above every name : hath given all things into his hands: hath committed all judgment unto him; that all men should honour the Son, ■even as they honour the Father.^ For, worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and loisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, ajid blessing. And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, heard I, saying. Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and imto the Lamb for ever and ever.** These passages of Scripture seem to comprehend and •express the chief parts of Christ's office, as Mediator between God and man, so far, I mean, as the nature of this his office is revealed ; and it is usually treated of by divines under three heads. Fii^st, He was, by way of eminence, the Prophet: that Prophet that should come into the world,\\ to declare the divine will. He published anew the law of nature, which men had corrupted; and the very knowledge of which, to some degree, w^as lost among them. He * taught mankind, taught us authoritatively, to live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world, in expectation of the future judgment of God. He confirmed tlie truth of this moral system of nature, and gave us additional ■evidence of it; the evidence of tcstimony.it He dis- tinctly revealed the manner, in which God would be * I Pet. i. 19 Rev. V. 9. Oal. iii. 13. f IIassiijre in tlie hook of .Job, xxxiii. 24. ^ Phil. ii. 8, 9. John iii. 30. v. 22, 23. ♦* Kev. v. 12, 13. tt John vi. M. r. 167, S:C. Chap, v.] a MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 219 worshipped, the efficacy of repentance, and the rewards and punishments of a future hfe. Thus he was a pro- phet in a sense in which no other ever was. To which is to be added, that he set us a perfect example, that we should follow his steps. Secondly y He has a kingdom ichich is not of this world. He founded a Church, to be to mankind a standing memorial of rehgion, and invitation to it; w^iich he pro- mised to be with always even to the end. He exercises an invisible government over it, himself, and by his Spirit: over that part of it, which is militant here on earth, a government of discipline, for the perfecting of the saints, for the edifying his body : till we all come in the unity of the faith y and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perject man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ* Of this Church, all persons scattered over the world, who live in obedience to his la\^, are mem- bers. For these he is gone to prepare a place, and will come again to i^eceive them unto himself, thai where he is, there they may he also ; and reign with him for ever and ever:\ and likewise to take vengeance on them that know not God, and obey not his Gospel.X Against these parts of Christ's office I find no objec- tions, but what are fully obviated in the beginning of this Chapter. Lastly^ Christ offered himself a propitiatory sacrifice, and made atonement for the sins of the world ; which is mentioned last, in regard to what is objected against it. Sacrifices of expiation were commanded the Jews, and obtained amongst most other nations, from tradition, whose original probably was revelation. And they were continually repeated, both occasionally, and at the re- turns of stated times : and made up great part of the external religion of mankind. But now once in the end oj the world Christ appeared to put away sin by the sacri- iice of himself^ And this sacrifice was, in tlie highest degree and with the most extensive infiuencc, of that efficacy for obtaining pardon of sin, which the h( athens may be supposed to iiave thought their sacrifices to have ♦ Kph. iv. 12, 13. t a Thfss. i. 8. t John xiv. 2, 3. Rrv. iii. 'Jl, ami xi. 15. § lieb. :x. iO, 220 THE APPOINTMENT OF [Part \U been, and which the Jewish sacrifices really were in some degree, and with regard to some persons. How and in what particular way it had this efficacy^ there are not wanting persons who have endeavoured to explain: but I do not find that the Scripture has ex- plained it. We seem to be very much in the dark concerning the manner in which the ancients understood atonement to be made, ^. e. pardon to be obtained by sacrifices. And if the Scripture has, as surely it has, left this matter of the satisfaction of Christ mysterious, left somewhat in it unrevealed, all conjectures about it must be, if not evidently absurd, yet at least uncertain. Nor has any one reason to complain for want of further information, unless he can show his claim to it. Some have endeavoured to explain the eflficacy of what Christ has done and suffered for us, beyond what the Scripture has authorized : others, probably because they could not explain it, have been for taking it away, and confining his office as Redeemer of the world to his instruction, example, and government of the church. Whereas the doctrine of the Gospel appears to be, not only that he taught the efficacy of repentance, but ren- dered it of the efficacy of w hich it is, by what he did and suffered for us : that he obtained for us the benefit of having our repentance accepted unto eternal life: not only that he revealed to sinners, that they were in a capacity of salvation, and how they might obtain it ; but moreover that he put them into this capacity of salvation, by what he did and suffered for them; put us into a capacity of escaping future punishment, and obtaining future happiness. And it is our wisdom thankfully to accept the benefit, by performing the conditions, upon which it is offered, on our part, without disputing how it was procured on his. For, VII. Since we neither know by what means punish- ment in a future state would have followed wickedness in this: nor in what manner it would have been inflicted, had it not been prevented ; nor all the reasons why its infliction would have been needful, nor the particular nature of that state of happiness, which Christ is gone to prepare for his disciples : and since we are ignorant Chap, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 221 how far any thing which we could do, would, alone and of itself, have been effectual to prevent that punishment to which we were obnoxious, and recover that happi- ness, which we had forfeited ; it is most evident we are not judges, antecedently to revelation, whether a me- diator was or was not necessarv, to obtain those ends : to prevent that future punishment, and bring mankind to the final happiness of their nature. And for the very same reasons, upon supposition of the necessity of a mediator, we are no more judges, antecedently to reve- lation, of the whole nature of his office, or the several parts of which it consists ; of what was fit and requisite to be assigned him, in order to accomplish the ends of divine Providence in the appointment. And from hence it follows, that to object against the expediency or usefulness of particular things, revealed to have been done or suffered by him, because we do not see how they were conducive to those ends, is highly absurd. Yet nothing is more common to be met with, than this absurdity. But if it be acknowledged beforehand, that we are not judges in the case, it is evident that no ob- jection can, with any shadow of reason, be urged against any particular part of Christ's mediatorial office revealed in Scripture, till it can be shown positively not to be re- quisite or conducive to the ends proposed to be accom- plished ; or that it is in itself unreasonable. And there is one objection made against the satisfac- tion of Christ, which looks to be of this positive kind : that the doctrine of his being appointed to suffer for the sins of the world, re])resents Ciod as being indifferent whether he punished the innocent or the guilty. Now from the foregoing observations we may see the extreme slightness of all such objections; and (though it is most certain all who make them do not see the consequence) that they conclude altogether as much against Cod's whole original constitution of nature, and the whole daily course of divine Providence in the government of the world, ?'. c. against the whole sclicme of Theism and the whole notion of Religion, as against Christianity. For the world is a constitution or system, whose parts have a mutual reference to each other: and there is a 222 THE APPOINTMENT OF [Part II. scheme of things gradually carrying on, called the course of nature, to the carrying on of which God has appointed us, in various ways, to contribute. And when, in the daily course of natural providence, it is appointed that innocent people should suffer for the faults of the guilty, this is liable to the very same objection, as the instance we are now considering. The infinitely greater impor- tance of that appointment of Christianity, which is ob- jected against, does not hinder but it may be, as it plain- ly is, an appointment of the very same kind, with what the world affords us daily examples of. Nay, if there were any force at all in the objection, it would be stronger, in one respect, against natural providence, thaa against Christianity: because under the former we are in many cases commanded, and even necessitated whe- ther we will or no, to suffer for the faults of others ; whereas the sufferings of Christ were voluntary. The world's being under the righteous government of God does indeed imply, that finally and upon the whole every one shall receive according to his personal deserts: and the general doctrine of the whole Scripture is, that this shall be the completion of the divine government. But during the progress, and, for ought we know, even in order to the completion of this moral scheme, vica- rious punishments may be fit, and absolutely necessary. Men by their follies run themselves into extreme dis- tress ; into difficulties which would be absolutely fatal to them, were it not for the interposition and assistance of others. God commands by the law of nature, that we afford them this assistance, in many cases where we cannot do it without very great pains, and labour, and sufferings to ourselves. And we see in what variety of ways one person's sufferings contribute to the relief of another: and how, or by what particular means, this comes to pass, or follows, from the constitution and laws of nature, which came under our notice : and, being fami- liarized to it, men are not shocked with it. So that the reason of their insisting upon objections of the foregoing kind against the satisfaction of Christ is, either that they do not consider God's settled and uniform appointments as his appoi ntmcnts at all ; or else they forget that vica- Chap. V.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 223 rious punishment is a providential appointment of every day's experience : and then, from their being unac- quainted with the more general laws of nature or divine government over the world, and not seeing how the suf- ferings of Christ could contribute to the redemption of it, unless by arbitrary and tyrannical will; they conclude his sufferings could not contribute to it any other way. And yet, what has been often alleged in justification of this doctrine, even from the apparent natural tendency of this method of our redemption ; its tendency to vindi- cate the authority of God's laws, and deter his creatures from sin; this has never yet been answered, and is I think plainly unanswerable : though I am far from think- ing it an account of the whole of the case. But, with- out taking this into consideration, it abundantly appears, from the observations above made, that this objection is, not an objection against Christianity, but against the whole general constitution of nature. And if it were to be considered as an objection against Christianity, or considering it as it is, an objection against the constitu- tion of nature ; it amounts to no more in conclusion than this, that a divine appointment cannot be necessary or ex- pedient, because the objector does not discern it to be so: though he must own that the nature of the case is such, as renders him incapable of judging, whether it be so or not; or of seeing it to be necessary, though it were so. It is indeed a matter of great patience to reasonable men, to find people arguing in this manner : objecting against the credibility of such particular things revealed in Scripture, that they do not see the necessity or ex- pediency of them. For though it is highly right, and the most pious exercise of our understanding, to inquire with due reverence into the ends and reasons of (iod's dispensation : yet when those reasons are conci alcd, to argue from our ignorance, that such dispensations can- not be from (iod, is iniinitely absurd. The ])resinni)ti()n of tliis kind of objections seems almost lost in the folly of them. And the folly of them is yet greater, when ihoy are urged, as usually they are, against things in Christianity analogous or like to those natural dispensa- tions of Providence, which are matter of experience. 1224 THE APPOINTMENT OF [Part II. Let reason be kept to : and if any part of the Scripture account of the redemption of the world by Christ can be shown to be really contrary to it, let the Scripture, in the name of God, be given up : but let not such poor creatures as we go on objecting against an infinite scheme, that we do not see the necessity or usefulness of all its parts, and call this reasoning ; and, which still further heightens the absurdity in the present case, parts which we are not actively concerned in. For it may be worth mentioning, Lastly, That not only the reason of the thing, but the whole analogy of nature, should teach us, not to expect to have the like information concerning the divine con- duct, as concerning our own duty. God instructs us by experience (for it is not reason, but experience which instructs us), what good or bad consequences will follow from our acting in such and such manners : and by this he directs us how we are to behave ourselves. But, though we are sufficiently instructed for the com- mon purposes of hfe : yet it is but an almost infinitely small part of natural providence, which we are at all let into. The case is the same with regard to revelation. The doctrine of a mediator between God and man, against which it is objected, that the expediency of some things in it is not understood, relates only to what was done on God's part in the appointment, and on the Mediator's in the execution of it. For what is required of us, in consequence of this gracious dispensation, is another subject, in which none can complain for want of information. The constitution of the world, and God's natural government over it, is all mystery, as much as the Christian dispensation. Yet under the first he has given men all things pertaining to life; and under the other all things pertaining unto godliness. And it may be added, that there is nothing hard to be accounted for in any of the common precepts of Christianity: though if there were, surely a divine command is abundantly sufficient to lay us under the strongest obligations to obedience. But the fact is, that the reasons of all the Christian precepts are evident. Positive institutions are manifestly necessary to keep up and propagate religion Chap. VI.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 225 amongst mankind. And our duty to Christ, the internal and external worship of him ; this part of the rehgion of the Gospel manifestly arises out of what he has done and suffered, his authority and dominion, and the rela- tion which he is revealed to stand in to us.* CHAP. VI. ^ OF THE WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION; AND OF THE SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN THE PROOF OF IT. It has been thought by some persons, that if the evi- dence of revelation appears doubtful, this itself turns into a positive argument against it: because it cannot be supposed, that, if it were true, it would be left to subsist upon doubtful evidence. And the objection against revelation from its not being universal is often insisted upon as of great weight. Now the weakness of these opinions may be shown, by observing the suppositions on which they are found- ed: which are really such as these ; that it cannot be thought God would have bestowed any favour at all upon us, unless in the degree, which, we think, he might, and which, we imagine, would be most our particular advantage; and also that it cannot be thought he would bestow a favour upon any, unless he bestowed the same upon all ; suppositions, which we find contradicted, not by a few instances in God's natural government of the world, but by the general analogy of nature togetlier. Persons who speak of the evidence of religion as doubtful, and of this supposed doubtfulness as a positive argument against it, siiould be j)ut upon considering, what that evidence indeed is, which they act upon with regard to their temporal interests. For, it is not only extremely diOicult, but in many cases absolutely impos- sible, to balance pleasur(^ and j)ain, satisfaction and uneasiness, so as to be able to say on which side the overplus is. There are the like diliiculties and impossi- biUties in making the due allowances for a change of ♦ P. 171,&c. P 226 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL I [Part II. temper and taste, for satiety, disgusts, ill health : any of which render men incapable of enjoying, after they have obtained what they most eagerly desired. Numberless too are the accidents, besides that one of untimely death, which may even probably disappoint the best concerted schemes: and strong objections are often seen to lie against them, not to be removed or answered, but which seem overbalanced by reasons on the other side; so as that the certain difficulties and dangers of the pursuit are, by every one, thought justly disregarded, upon account of the appearing greater advantages in case of success, though there be but little probability of it. Lastly, every one observes our liableness, if we be not upon our guard, to be deceived by the falsehood of men, and the false appearances of things: and this danger must be greatly increased, if there be a strong bias within, suppose from indulged passion, to favour the deceit. Hence arises that great uncertainty and doubt- fulness of proof, wherein our temporal interest really consists; what are the most probable means of attaining it; and whether those means will eventually be success- ful. And numberless instances there are, in the daily course of life, in which all men think it reasonable to engage in pursuits, though the probabihty is greatly against succeeding; and to make such provision for themselves, as it is supposable they may have occasion for, though the plain acknowledged probability is, that they never shall. Then those who think the objection against revelation, from its light not being universal, to be of weight, should observe, that the Author of Nature, in numberless instances, bestows that upon some, which he does not upon others, who seem equally to stand in need of it. Indeed he appears to bestow all his gifts with the most promiscuous variety among creatures of the same species: health and strength, capacities of pru- dence and of knowledge, means of improvement, riches, and all external advantages. And as there are not any two men found, of ( xactly like shape and features; so it is probable there are not any two, of an exactly like constitution, temper, and situation, with regard to the goods and evils of life. Yet, notwithstanding these- Chap.VT.] supposed DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 227 uncertainties and varieties, God does exercise a natural government over the world ; and there is such a thing as a prudent and imprudent institution of Hfe, with re- gard to our health and our affairs, under that his natural government. As neither the Jewish nor Christian revelation have been universal ; and as they have been afforded to a greater or less part of the world, at different times ; so likewise at different times, both revelations have had different desirees of evidence. The Jews who lived during the succession of prophets, that is, from Moses till after the Captivity, had higher evidence of the truth of their religion, than those had, who lived in the inter- val between the last mentioned period, and the coming of Christ. And the first Christians had higher evidence of the miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity, than what we have now. They had also a strong pre- sumptive proof of the truth of it, perhaps of much greater force, in way of argument, than many think, of which we have very little remaining ; I mean the pre- sumptive proof of its truth, from the influence which it had upon the lives of the generality of its professors. And we, or future ages, may possibly have a proof of it, which they could not have, from the conformity between , the prophetic history, and the state of the world and of Christianity. And further: if we were to suppose the evidence, which some have of religion, to amount to little more than seeing that it may be true; but that they remain in great doubts and uncertainties about both its evidence and its nature, and great perplexities concerning the rule of life: others to have a full con- viction of the truth of religion, with a distinct knowledge of their duty ; and others severally to have all the inter- mediate degrees of religious light and evidence, which lie between these two — if we put the case, that for the present, it was intended, revelation sliould be no more than a small light, in the midst of a world greatly over- spread, notwithstanding it, with ignorance and darkness : that certain glimmerings of this light should extend, and be directed, t-o remote distances, in such a manncT as that those who reallv uartook of it should not discern P 2 228 REVELATION NOT universal: [Part H. from whence it ori^^inally came: that some in a nearer situation to it should have its hght obscured, and, in dif- ferent ways and degrees, intercepted: and that others should be placed within its clearer influence, and be much more enlivened, cheered, and directed by it ; but yet that even to these it should be no more than a light shining in a dark place : all this would be perfectly uni- form, and of a piece with the conduct of Providence, in the distribution of its other blessings. If the fact of the case really were, that some have received no light at all from the Scripture ; as many ages and countries in the heathen world : that others, though they have, by means of it, had essential or natural religion enforced upon their consciences, yet have never had the genuine Scripture revelation, with its real evidence, proposed to their con- sideration ; and the ancient Persians and modern Maho- metans may possibly be instances of people in a situa- tion somewhat like to this: that others, though they have had the Scripture laid before them as of divine revelation, yet have had it with the system and evidence of Christi- anity so interpolated, the system so corrupted, the evi- dence so blended with false miracles, as to leave the mind in the utmost doubtfulness and uncertainty about the whole; which may be the state of some thoughtful men, in most of those nations who call themselves Chris- tian : and lastly, that others have had Christianity olfered to them in its genuine simplicity, and with its proper evidence, as persons in countries and churches of civil and of Christian liberty; but however that even thesfe persons are left in great ignorance in many respects, and have by no means light afforded them enough to satisfy their curiosity, but only to regulate their life, to teach them their duty, and encourage them in the careful dis- charge of it: I say, if we were to suppose this somewhat of a general true account of the degrees of moral and religious light and evidence, which were intended to be afforded mankind, and of what has actually been and is their situation, in their moral and religious capacity; there would be nothing in all this ignorance, doubtfulness, and uncertainty, in all these varieties, and supposed disad- vantages of some in comparison of others, respecting Chap. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 229 religion, but paralleled by manifest analogies in the natural dispensations of Providence at present, and considering ourselves merely in our temporal capacity. Nor is there any thing shocking in all this, or which would seem to bear hard upon the moral administration in nature, if we would really keep in mind, that every one shall be dealt equitably with: instead of forgetting this, or explaining it away, after it is acknowledged in words. All shadow of injustice, and indeed all harsh appearances, in this various economy of Providence, would be lost; if we would keep in mind, that every merciful allowance shall be made, and no more be re- quired of any one, than what might have been equitably expected of him, from the circumstances in which he was placed ; and not what might have been expected, had he been placed in other circumstances : i. e. in Scripture language, that every m,an shall be accepted according to what he had, not according to lohat he had not* This how- ever doth not by any means imply, that all persons'con- dition here is equally advantageous with respect to futu- rity. And Providence's designing to place some in greater darkness with respect to religious knowledge, is no more a reason why they should not endeavour to get out of that darkness, and others to bring them out of it; than why ignorant and slow people in matters of other knowledge should not endeavour to learn, or should not be instructed. It is not unreasonable to suppose, that the same wise and good principle, whatever it was, which disposed the Author of Nature to make different kinds and orders of creatures, disposed him also to place creatures of like kinds in different situations : and that the same principle which disposed him to make creatures of different moral capacities, disposed him also to place creatures of like moral capacities in different religious situations ; and even the same creatures, in different periods of their being. And the account or reason of this is also most probably the account why the constitution of things is such, as that creatures of moral natures or capacities, for a con- sideruble part of that duration in which they are living ♦ 2 Cor. viii. 12. 230 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : |Tart IL agents, are not at all subjects of morality and religion ; but grow up to be so, and grow up to be so more and more gradually from childhood to mature age. What, in particular, is the account or reason of these things, we must be greatly in the dark, were it only that we know so very little even of our own case. Our pre- sent state may possibly be the consequence of somewhat past, which we are wholly ignorant of: as it has a refer- ence to somewhat to come, of which we know scarce any more than is necessary for practice. A system or con- stitution, in its notion, implies variety; and so compli- cated a one as this world, very great variety. So that were revelation universal, yet, from men's different capa- cities of understanding, from the different lengths of their lives, their different educations and other external cir- cumstances, and from their difference of temper and bodily constitution ; their religious situations would be widely different, and the disadvantage of some in comparison of others, perhaps, altogether as much as at present. And the true account, whatever it be, why mankind, or such a part of m.ankind, are placed in this condition of ignorance, must be supposed also the true account of our further ignorance, in not knowing the reasons why, or whence it is, that they are placed in this condition. But the following practical reflections may deserve the serious consideration of those persons, who think the circumstances of mankind or their own, in the foremen- tioned respects, a ground of complaint. First, The evidence of religion not appearing obvious, may constitute one particular part of some men's trial in the religious sense : as it gives scope, for a virtuous ex- ercise, or vicious neglect of their understanding, in ex- amining or not examining into that evidence. There seems no possible reason to be given, why we may not be in a state of moral probation, with regard to the ex- ercise of our understanding upon the subject of religion, as we are with regard to our behaviour in common affairs. The former is as much a thing within our power and choice as the latter. And I suppose it is to be laid down for certain, that the same character, the same in- ward principle, which, after a man is convinced of the Chap. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFTCIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 231 truth of religion, renders him obedient to the precepts of it, would, were he not thus convinced, set him about an examination of it, upon its system and evidence being offered to his thoughts : and that in the latter state his examination would be with an impartiality, seriousness, and solicitude, proportionable to vvhat his obedience is in the former. And as inattention, negligence, want of all serious concern, about a matter of such a nr.ture and such importance, when offered to men's consideration, is, before a distinct conviction of its truth, as real immoral depravity and dissoluteness; as neglect of religious prac- tice after such conviction : so active solicitude about it, and fair impartial consideration of its evidence before such conviction, is as really an exercise of a morally right temper ; as is religious practice after. Thus, that reli- gion is not intuitively true, but a matter of deduction and inference ; that a conviction of its truth is not forced upon every one, but left to be, by some, collected with heedful attention to premises; this as much constitutes religious probation, as much affords sphere, scope, oppor- tunity, for right and wrong behaviour, as any thing what- ever does. And their manner of treating this subject, when laid before them, shows what is in their heart, and is an exertion of it. Secondlyy It appears to be a thing as evident, though it is not so much attended to, that if, upon consideration of religion, the evidence of it should seem to any persons doubtful, in the highest supposable degree; even this doubtful evidence will, however, put them into a general state of probation in the moral and religious sense. For, suppose a man to be really in doubt, whether such a person had not done him the greatest favour; or, whether his whole temporal interest did not depend upon that person : no one, who had any sense of gratitude and ol prudence, could possiblv consider himself in the same situation, with regard to such ])ers()n, as if he had no such doubt. In truth, it is as just to say, that certainty and doubt are the same; as to say tiic situations now mentioned would h ave a man as entirely at liberty in point of gratitude or prudence, as he would \){\ w cr^, he certain he had received no favour froai such person, 232 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL [Fart l\ or that he no way depended upon hiin. And thus, though the evidence of rehgion which is afforded to sorne^ men should be httle more than they are given to see, the - system of Christianity, or rehgion in general, to be sup-r posable and credible; this ought in all reason to beget a serious practical apprehension, that it may be true. And- even this will afford matter of exercise for religious^ suspense and deliberation, for moral resolution and self-government; because the apprehension that religion may be true does as really lay men under obligations, as a full conWction that it is true. It gives occasion and motives to consider further the important subject; to pre- serve attentively upon their minds a general implicit sense that they may be under divine moral government, an awful solicitude about religion, whether natural or revealed. Such apprehension ought to turn men's eyes to every degree of new light which may be had, from whatever side it comes ; and induce them to refrain, in the mean time, from all immoralities, and live in the conscientious practice of every common virtue. Especially are they bound to keep at the greatest distance from all dissolute profaneness; for this the very nature of the case forbids; and to treat with highest reverence a matter, upon which their own whole interest and being, and the fate of nature, depend. This behaviour, and an active endeavour to maintain within themselves this temper, is the busi- ness, the duty, and the wisdom of those persons, who complain of the doubtfulness of religion: is what they are under the most proper obligations to. And such beha- viour is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve in them, that character, which the practice of all the several duties of religion, from a full conviction of its truth, is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve in others: others, I say, to whom God has afforded such conviction. Nay, considering the infinite importance of religion, revealed as well as natural, I think it may be said in general, that whoever will weigh the matter thoroughly may see, there is not near so much diflference, . as is coinmonly imagined, between what ought in reason, to be the rule of life, to those persons who are fully con« vinced of its truth, and to those who have only a serious - Chap.ti.] supposed deficiency in its proof. 233 doubting apprehension, that it may be true. Their hopes, and fears, and obhgations, will be in various degrees: but, as the subject matter of their hopes and fears is the same; so the subject matter of their obligations, what they are bound to do and to refrain from, is not so very unlike. It is to be observed further, that, from a character of understanding, or a situation of influence in the world, some persons have it in their power to do infinitely more harm or good, by setting an example of profaneness and avowed disregard to all religion, or, on the contrary, of a serious, though perhaps doubting, apprehension of its truth, and of a reverend regard to it under this doubt- fulness ; than they can do, by acting well or ill in all the common intercourses amongst mankind. And conse- quently they are most highly accountable for a behaviour, which, they may easily foresee, is of such importance, and in which there is most plainly a right and a wTong; even admitting the evidence of religion to be as doubtful as is pretended. The ground of these observations, and that which renders them just and true, is, that doubting necessarily implies some degree of evidence for that, of which we doubt. For no person would be in doubt concerning the truth of a number of facts so and so circumstanced, which should accidentally come into his thoughts, and of which he had no evidence at all. And though in the case of an even chance, and where consequently we were in doubt, we should in common language say, that we had no evidence at all for either side; yet that situation of things, which renders it an even chance and no more, that such an (^vent will happen, renders this case equiva- lent to all others, whore there is such evidence on both sides of a question,* as leaves the mind in doubt con- cerning the truth. Indeed in all these cases, there is no more (evidence on one side than on the other ; but there is (what is equival(Mit to) much more for either, than for the truth of a niunbcr of facts, which come into one's thouirhts at random. And thus, in all these cases, doubt as much presupposes evidence, Iowct decrees ol evi- dence, as belief presupposes higher, and certainty higher *• IntrotiucUoo. 234 REVELATION NOT universal: [Part H. Still. Any one, Trho will a little attend to the nature of evidence, will easily carry this observation on, and see, that between no evidence at all, and that degree of it which alfords ground of doubt, there are as many inter- mediate degrees, as there are, between that degree which is the ground of doubt, and demonstration. And though we have not faculties to distinguish these degrees of evidence with any sort of exactness ; yet, in proportion as they are discerned, they ought to influence our prac- tice. For it is as rtal an imperfection in the moral cha- racter, not to be influenced in practice by a lower degree of evidence when discerned, as it is in the understanding, not to discern it. And as, in all subjects which men con- sider, they discern the lower as well as higher degrees of evidence, proportionably to their capacity of understand- ing; so, in practical subjects, they are influenced in prac- tice, by the lower as well as higher degrees of it, propor- tionably to their fairness and honesty. And as, in pro- portion to defects in the understanding, men are unapt to see lower degrees of evidence, are in danger of over- looking evidence when it is not glaring, and are easily imposed upon in such cases; so, in proportion to the corruption of the heart, they seem capable of satisfying themselves with having no regard in practice to evidence acknowledged real, if it be not overbearing. From these things it must follow, that doubting concerning religion implies such a degree of evidence for it, as, joined with the consideration of its importance, unquestionably lays men under the obligations before mentioned, to have a dutiful regard to it in all their behaviour. Thirdly, The difficulties in which the evidence of reli- gion is involved, which some complain of, is no more a just ground of complaint, than the external circumstances 3f temptation, which others are placed in; or than diffi- culties in the practice of it, after a full conviction of its truth. Temptations render our state a more improving state of discipline,* than it would be otherwise : as they give occasion for a more attentive exercise of the vir- tuous princ'ple, which confirms and strengthens it more, llian an easier or less attentive exercise of it could. Now * I'-irt I. CLip. V. J Chap. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 235 speculative difficulties are, in this respect, of the very same nature with these external temptations. For the evidence of religion not appearing obvious, is to some persons a temptation to reject it, without any considera- tion at all; and therefore requires such an attentive ex- ercise of the virtuous principle, seriously to consider that evidence, as there would be no occasion for, but for such temptation. And the supposed doubtfulness of its evi- dence, after it has been in some sort considered, affords opportunity to an unfair mind of explaining away, and deceitfully hiding from itself, that evidence which it might see; and also for men's encouraging themselves in vice, from hopes of impunity, though they do clearly see thus much at least, that these hopes are uncertain : in like manner as the common temptation to many instances of folly, which end in temporal infamy and ruin, is the ground for hope of not being detected, and of escaping with impunity; i. e. the doubtfulness of the proof before- hand, that such foolish behaviour will thus end in infamy and ruin. On the contrary, supposed doubtfulness in the evidence of religion calls for a more careful and atten- tive exercise of the virtuous principle, in fairly yielding themselves up to the proper influence of any real evi- dence, though doubtful ; and in practising conscientiously all virtue, though under some uncertainty, whether the government in the universe may not possibly be such, as that vice may escape with impunity. And in general, temptation, meaning by this word the lesser allurements to wrong and difficulties in tlie discharge of our dutv, as w^ell as the greater ones ; temptation, I say, as such and of every kind and degree, as it calls forth some virtuous efforts, additional to what would otherwise have been wanting, cannot but be an additional discij)line and im- provement of virtue, as well as probation of it in the other senses of that word.* So that the very same ac- count is to be given, why the evidence of religion should be left in such a manner, as to require, in some, an attentive, solicitous, perhaps painful exercise of their understanding about it ; as why others slioukl be placed ia such circumstances, as that the practice of its common ♦ Part I. Chap. iv. mA pp. 13a, 134. 236 REVELATION NOT UNI VERSAL : [Part If. duties, after a full conviction of the truth of it, should require attention, solicitude, and pains : or, why appear- ing doubtfulness should be permitted to afford matter of temptation to some ; as why external difficulties and allurements should be permitted to afford matter of temptation to others. The same account also is to be given, why some should be exercised with temptations of both these kinds ; as why others should be exercised with, the latter in such very high degrees, as some have been, particularly as the primitive Christians were. Nor does there appear any absurdity in supposing, that the speculative difficulties, in which the evidence of religion is involved, may make even the principal part of some persons' trial. For as the chief temptations of the generality of the world are the ordinary motives to injustice or unrestrained pleasure ; or to live in the ne- glect of religion from that frame of mind, which renders many persons almost without feeling as to any thing dis- tant, or which is not the object of their senses: so there are other persons without this shallowness of temper, persons of a deeper sense as to what is invisible and future ; who not only see, but have a general practical feehng, that what is to come will be present, and that things are not less real for their not being the objects of sense; and who, from their natural constitution of body and of temper, and from their external condition, may have small temptations to behave ill, small difficulty in behaving well, in the common course of life. Now when these latter persons have a distinct full conviction of the truth of religion, without any possible doubts or difficulties, the practice of it is to them unavoidable, un- less they will do a constant violence to their own minds; and religion is scarce any more a discipline to them, than it is to creatures in a state of perfection. Yet these persons may possibly stand in need of moral dis- cipline and exercise in a higher degree, than they would have by such an easy practice of religion. Or it may be requisite, for reasons unknown to us, that they should give some further manifestation* what is their moral character, to the creation of God, than such a practice ♦ p. 133, 134. C«AP. VI.J SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 237 of it would be. Thus in the great variety of rehgious situations in which men are placed, what constitutes, what chiefly and peculiarly constitutes, the probation, in all senses, of some persons, may be the difficulties in which the evidence of religion is involved: and their principal and distinguished trial may be, how they will behave under and with respect to these difficulties. Circumstances in men's situation in their temporal capa- city, analogous in good measure to this respecting reli- gion, are to be observed. We find some persons are placed in such a situation in the world, as that their chief difficulty with regard to conduct, is not the doing what is prudent when it is known; for this, in number- less cases, is as easy as the contrary: but to some the principal exercise is, recollection and being upon their guard against deceits, the deceits suppose of those about them ; against false appearances of reason and prudence. To persons in some situations, the principal exercise with respect to conduct is, attention in order to inform themselves what is proper, what is really the reasonable and prudent part to act. But as I have hitherto gone upon supposition, that men's dissatisfaction with the evidence of religion is not owing to their neglects or prejudices; it must be added, on the other hand, in all common reason, and as what the truth of the case plainly requires should be added, that such dissatisfaction possibly may be owing to those, possibly may be men's own fault. For, If there are any persons, who never set themselves heartily and in earnest to be informed in religion; if there are any, who secretly wish it may not prove true ; and are less attentive to evidence than to difficulties, and more to objections than to what is said in answer to them : these persons will scarce be thought in a likely way of seeing the evidence of religion, though it were most certainly true, and caj)able of being ever so fully proved. If any accustom themselves to consider this subject usually in the way of mirth and s])ort: if they attend to forms and representations, and inadecpiate man- ners of expression, instead of the real things intended by them: (for signs often can be no more than inade- 238 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : [Part II, quately expressive of the things signified:) or if they substitute human errors in the room of divine truth; why may not all, or any of these things, hinder some men from seeing that evidv.'nce, which really is seen by others; as a like turn of mind, with respect to matters of common speculation and practice, does, we find by experience, hinder them from attaining that knowledge and right understanding, in matters of common specu- lation and practice, which more fair and attentive minds attain to? And the effect will be the same, whether their neglect of seriously considering the evidence of religion, and their indirect behaviour with regard to it, proceed from mere carelessness, or from the grosser vices ; or whether it be owing to this, that forms and figurative manners of expression, as well as errors, ad- minister occasions of ridicule, when the things intended, and the truth itself, w^ould not. Men may indulge a ludicrous turn so far as to lose all sense of conduct and prudence in worldly affairs, and even, as it seems, to impair their faculty of reason. And in general, levity, carelessness, passion, and prejudice do hinder us from being rightly informed, with respect to common things: and they may, in like manner, and perhaps in some further providential manner, with respect to moral and religious subjects: may hinder evidence from being laid before us, and from being seen when it is. The Scrip- ture* does declare, that every one shall not understand. And it makes no difference, by what providential con- duct this comes to pass: whether the evidence of Chris- tianity was, origina-lly and with design, put and left so, as that those who are desirous of evading moral obliga- tions should not see it; and that honest-minded per- sons should: or, whether it comes to pass by any other means. Further : The general proof of natural religion and of * Dan. xii. 10. See al«^ Tsa. xxix. 13, 14. Matth. vi. 23. and xi. 25. and xiii. II, 12. John iii. 19. and v. 44 1 Cor. ii. 14. and 2 Cor. iv. 4. 2 Tim. iii. 13. and that atrmioiiair as well as authoritativp admonition, so very many times iiirul- cated, // deed must have been a giving up the world in a great degree, even from the very first, and before the empire engaged in form against them : it cannot be supposed, that such numbers should make so great, and, to say the least, so inconvenient a change in their whole institution- of life, unless they were really convinced of the truth of those miracles, upon the knowledge or belief of which they professed to make it. And it will, I suppose, readily be acknowledged, that the generality of the first converts to Christianity must have believed them : that as by be- coming Christians they declared to the world, they were satisfied of the truth of those miracles ; so this declara- tion was to be credited. And this their testimony is the same kind of evidence for those miracles, as if they had put it in writing, and these writings had come down to us. And it is real evidence, because it is of facts, which they had capacity and full opportunity to inform them- selves of. It is also distinct from the direct or expres? historical evidence, though it is of the same kind: audit would be allowed to be distinct in all cases. For were a fact expressly related by one or more ancient histo- rians, and disputed in after ages ; that this fact is acknow- ledged to have been believed by great numbers of the age in which the historian says it was done, would be allowed an additional proof of such fact, quite distinct from the express testimony of the historian. The cre- dulity of mankind is acknowledged: and the suspicions- of mankind ought to be acknowledged too; and their backwardness even to believe, and greater still to prac- tise, what makes against their interest. And it must particularly be remembered, that education, and prejudice, and authority, were against Christianity, in the age I am speaking of. So that the immediate conversion of such numbers is a real presumption of somewhat more than human in this matter: I say presumption, for it is not alleged as a proof alone and by itself. Nor need any one of the things mentionid in this Chapter be considered' as a proof by itself: and yet all of them together may be one of the strongest.* Upon the whole: as ^bere is large historical evidence^ * p. 273, &c. Chap. VII.J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 249 both direct and circumstantial, of miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity, collected by those who have writ upon the subject ; it hes upon unbelievers to show, why this evidence is not to be credited. This way of speaking is, I think, just; and what persons who write in defence of religion naturally fall into. Yet, in a matter of such unspeakable importance, the proper question is, not whom it lies upon, according to the rules of argu- ment, to maintain or confute objections: but whether there really are any, against this evidence, sufficient, in reason, to destroy the credit of it. However, unbelievers seem to take upon them the part of showing that there are. They allege, that numberless enthusiastic people, in different ages and countries, expose themselves to the same difficulties which the primitive Christians did ; and are ready to give up their lives for the most idle follies imaginable. But it is not very clear, to what purpose this objection is brought. For every one, surely, in every case, must distinguish between opinions and facts. And though testimony is no proof of enthusiastic opi- nions, or of any opinions at all ; yet it is allowed, in all other cases, to be a proof of facts. And a person's lay- ing down his life in attestation of facts or of opinions, is the strongest proof of his believing them. And if the Apostles and their contemporaries did believe the facts,, in attestation of which they exposed themselves to suf- ferings and death; this their belief, or rather knowledge, must be a proof of those facts : for they were such as came under the observation of their senses. And though it is not of equal weight, yet it is of weight, that the martyrs of the next age, notwithstanding they were not eye-witnesses of those facts, as were the Apostles and their contemporaries, had, however, full opportunity ta inform themselves, whether they were true or not, and gave equal proof of their believing them to be true. But enthusiasm, it is said, greatly weakens the evi- dence of testimony even for facts, in matters rehiting ta r< hgion : some seem to think it totally and absohitely destroys the evidence of testimony upon this subject. And indeed the powers of enthusiasm, and of diseases 250 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [Part II. too, which operate in a hke manner, are very wonderful, in particular instances. But if great numbers of men, not appearing in any pecuhar degree weak, nor under any pecuhar suspicion of neghgence, affirm that they saw and heard such things plainly with their eyes and their ears, and are admitted to be in earnest; such testi- mony is evidence of the strongest kind we can have, for any matter of fact. Yet possibly it may be overcome, strong as it is, by incredibihty in the things thus attest- ed, or by contrary testimony. And in an instance where one thought it was so overcome, it might be just to con- sider, how far such evidence could be accounted for, by enthusiasm; for it seems as if no other imagin-able ac- count were to be given of it. But till such incredibihty be shown, or contrary testimony produced, it cannot surely be expected, that so far-fetched, so indirect and wonderful an account of such testimony, as that of en- thusiasm must be; an account so strange, that the gene- rality of mankind can scarce be made to understand what is meant by it : it cannot, I say, be expected, that such account will be admitted of such evidence ; when there is this direct, easy, and obvious account of it, that peo- ple really saw and heard a thing not incredible, which they affirm sincerely and with full assurance, they did see and hear. Granting then that enthusiasm is not (strictly speaking) an absurd, but a possible account of such testimony; it is manifest, that the very mention of it goes upon the previous supposition, that the things so attested are incredible: and therefore need not be con- sidered, till they are shown to be so. Much less need it be considered, after the contrary has been proved. And I think it has been proved, to full satisfaction, that there is no incredibility in a revelation, in general ; or in such a one as the Christian, in particular. However, as reh- gion is supposed peculiarly liable to enthusiasm, it may just be observed, that prejudices almost without number, and without name, romance, affectation, humour, a desire to engage attention, or to surprise, the party spirit, custom, httle competitions, unaccountable likings and dislikings; these influence men strongly in common matters. And as these prejudices are often scarce known or reflected CHAP.Vn.] F<5R CHRISTIANITY. 2bl upon Iby the persons themselves who are influenced by them, they are to be considered as influences of a like kind to enthusiasm. Yet human testimony in com- mon matters is naturally and justly beheved notwith- standing. It is intimated further, in a more refined way of obser- vation, that though it should be proved, that the Apostles and first Christians could not, in some respects, be de- ceived themselves, and, in other respects, cannot be thought to have intended to impose upon the world ; yet it will not follow, that their general testimony is to be believed, though truly handed down to us: because they might still in part, i. e. in other respects, be deceived themselves, and in part also designedly impose upon others ; w^hich, it is added, is a thing very credible, from that mixture of real enthusiasm, and real knavery, to be met with in the same characters. And, I must confess, I think the matter of fact contained in this observation upon mankind is not to be denied ; and that somewhat very much akin to it is often supposed in Scripture as a very common case, and most severely reproved. But it were to have been expected, that persons capable of applying this observation as applied in the objection, might also frequently have met with the like mixed cha- racter, in instances where religion was quite out of the case. The thing plainly is, that mankind are naturally endued with reason, or a capacity of distinguishing be- tween truth and falsehood ; and as naturally they are endued with veracity, or a regard to truth in what they say: but from many occasions they are liable to be pre- judiced and biassed and deceived themselves, and capa- ble of intending to deceive others, in every degree: in- somuch that, as we are all liable to be deceived by pre- judice, so likewise it seems to be not an uncommon thing, for persons, who, from their regard to truth, would not invent a lie entirely without any foundation at all, to propagate it with heightening circumstances, aft( r it is once invented and set agoing. And others, though they would not propaqtite a lie, yet, which is a lower degree of falsehood, will let it ])ass without contradiction. But, notwitlistanding all lliis, lnM'\in testinion} remains still a I 252 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE TPart 11. natural ground of assent; and this assent a natural prin- ciple of action. It is objected further, that however it has happened, the fact is, that mankind have, in different ages, been strangely deluded with pretences to miracles and won- ders. But it is by no means to be admitted, that they have been oftener, or are at all more liable to be deceived by these pretences, than by others. It is added, that there is a very considerable degree of historical evidence for miracles, which are, on all hands, acknowledged to be fabulous. But suppose there were even the like historical evidence for these, to what there is for those alleged in proof of Christianity, which yet is in no wise allowed, but suppose this ; the consequence would not be, that the evidence of the latter is not to be admitted. Nor is there a man in the world, who, in common cases, would conclude thus. For what would such a conclusion really amount to but this, that evidence, confuted by contrary evidence, or any way overbalanced, destroys the credibility of other evidence, neither con- futed, nor overbalanced ? To argue, that because there is, if there were, like evidence from testimony, for mira- cles acknowledged false, as for those in attestation of Christianity, therefore the evidence in the latter case is not to be credited ; this is the same as to argue, that if two men of equally good reputation had given evidence in different cases no way connected, and one of them had been convicted of perjury, this confuted the testi- mony of the other. Upon the whole then, the general observation, that human creatures are so liable to be deceived, from en- thusiasm in religion, and principles equivalent to enthu- siasm in common matters, and in both from negligence ; and that they are so capable of dishonestly endeavouring to deceive others; this does indeed weaken the evidence of testimony in all cases, but does not destroy it in any. And these things will appear, to different men, to weaken the evidence of testimony, in different degrees : in de- grees proportionable to the observations they have made, or the notions they have any way taken up, concerning the weakness and negligence and dishonesty of man- Chap. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 253 kind; or concerning the powers of enthusiasm, and pre- judices equivalent to it. But it seems to me, that peo- ple do not know what they say, who affirm these things to destroy the evidence from testimony, which we have of the truth of Christianity. Nothing can destroy the evidence of testimony in any case, but a proof or pro- bability, that persons are not competent judges of the facts to which they give testimony ; or that they are actually under some indirect influence in giving it, in sQch particular case. Till this be made out, the natural laws of human actions require, that testimony be ad- mitted. It can never be sufficient to overthrow direct historical evidence, indolently to say, that there are so many principles, from whence men are liable to be de- ceived themselves, and disposed to deceive others, espe- cially in matters of religion, that one knows not what to believe. And it is surprising persons can help reflect- ing, that this very manner of speaking supposes they are not satisfied that there is nothing hi the evidence, of which they speak thus ; or that they can avoid observ- ing, if they do make this reflection, that it is on such a subject, a very material one.* And over against all these objections is to be set the importance of Christianity, as what must have engaged the attention of its first converts, so as to have rendered them less liable to be deceived from carelessness, than they would in common matters ; and likewise the strong obligations to veracity, which their religion laid them under: so that the first and most obvious presumption is, that thev could not be deceived themselves nor de- ceive others. And this presumption, in this deirree, is peculiar to the testimony we have been considering. In argument, assertions are nothing in themselves, and have an air of positivcness which sometimes is not very easy: yet they are necessary, and necessary to be repeated ; in order to connect a discourse, and distinctly to lay before the view of the reader, what is i^roposcd to be proved, and what is left as proved. Now the conclu- sion from the foregoing observations is, I think, beyond all doubt, this : that unbelievers must be forced to admit St*e Uie forrgo rg CI npter. 254 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE. [Part 11. the external evidence for Christianity, i. e. the proof of miracles wrought to attest it, to be of real weight and very considerable ; though they cannot allow it to be sufficient, to convince them of the reality of those miracles. And as they must, in all reason, admit this ; so it seems to me, that upon consideration they would, in fact, admit it ; those of them, I mean, who know any thing at all of the matter ; in like manner as persons, in many cases, own they see strong evidence from testimony, for the truth of things, which yet they cannot be convinced are true : cases, suppose, where there is contrary testimony ; or things which they think, whether with or without reason, to be incredible. But there is no testimony contrary to that which we have been considering : and it has been fully proved, that there is no incredibility in Christianity in general, or in any part of it. II. As to the evidence for Christianity from prophecy, I shall only make some few general observations, which are suggested by the Analogy of Nature ; i. e. by the ac- knowledged natural rules of judging in common matters, concerning evidence of a like kind to this from pro- phecy. 1. The obscurity or unintelligibleness of one part of a prophecy does not, in any degree, invalidate the proof of foresight, arising from the appearing completion of those other parts, which are understood. For the case is evidently the same, as if those parts, which are not understood, were lost, or not written at all, or written in an unknown tongue. Whether this observation be com- monly attended to or not, it is so evident, that one can scarce bring oneself to set down an instance in common matters, to exemplify it. However, suppose a writing, partly in cipher, and partly in plain words at length ; and that in the part one understood, there appeared mention of several known facts ; it would never come into any man's thoughts to imagine, that if he understood the whole, perhaps he might find, that those facts were not in reality Isnown by the writer. Indeed, both in this example and the thing intended to be exemplified by it, our not under- standing the whole (the whole, suppose, of a sentence or a paragraph) might sometimes occasion a doubt, whether Chap. Vn.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 255 one understood the literal meaning of such a part : but this comes under another consideration. For the same reason, though a man should be inca- pable, for want of learning, or opportunities of inquiry, or from not having turned his studies this way, even so much as to judge whether particular prophecies have been throughout completely fulfilled ; yet he may see, in general, that they have been fulfilled to such a degree, as, upon very good ground, to be convinced of foresight more than human in such prophecies, and of such events being intended by them. For the same reason also, though, by means of the deficiencies in civil history, and the different accounts of historians, the most learned should not be able to make out to satisfaction, that such parts of the prophetic history have been minutely and throughout fulfilled ; yet a very strong proof of foresight may arise, from that general completion of them, which is made out : as much proof of foresight, perhaps, as the giver of prophecy intended should ever be afforded by such parts of prophecy. 2. A long series of prophecy being applicable to such and such events, is itself a proof that it was intended of them : as the rules by which we naturally judge and determine, in common cases parallel to this, will show. This observation I make in answer to the common objection against the application of the prophecies, that, considering each of them distinctly by itself, it does not at all appear, that they were intended of those particular events, to which they are applied by Christians ; and therefore it is to be supposed, that, if they meant any thing, they were intended of other events unknown to us, and not of these at all. Now there are two kinds of writing, which bear a great resemblance to prophecy, with respect to the mat- ter before us : the mythological, and the satirical, where the satire is, to a certain drgn e, concealed. And a man might be assured, that he understood what an author intended by a fable or parable related without any a|)|)li- cation or moral, merely from seeing it to be easily c apa- ble of such application, and th.at such a moral might naturally be deduced from it. And he might be fully 256 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [Pabt II. assured, that such persons and events were intended in a satirical writing, merely from its being applicable to them. And, agreeable to the last observation, he might be in a good measure satisfied of it, though he were not enough informed in affairs, or in the story of such persons to understand half the satire. For, his satisfaction, that he understood the meaning, the intended meaning, of these writings, would be greater or less in proportion as he saw the general turn of them to be capable of such application; and in propor- tion to the number of particular things capable of it. And thus, if a long series of prophecy is applicable to the present state of the church, and to the political situ- ations of the kingdoms of the world, some thousand years after these prophecies were delivered, and a long series of prophecy delivered before the coming of Christ is applicable to him ; these things are in themselves a proof, that the prophetic history was intended of him, and of those events: in proportion as the general turn of it is capable of such application, and to the number and variety of particular prophecies capable of it. And though, in all just way of consideration, the appearing completion of prophecies is to be allowed to be thus explanatory of, and to determine, their meaning ; yet it is to be remembered further, that the ancient Jews ap- plied the prophecies to a Messiah before his coming, in much the same manner as Christians do now : and that the primitive Christians interpreted the prophecies re- specting the state of the church and of the world in the last ages, in the sense which the event seems to confirm and verify. And from these things it may be made appear : 3. That the showing even to a high probability, if that could be, that the prophets thought of some other events, in such and such predictions, and not those at all which Christians allege to be completions of those predictions ; or that such and such prophecies are capa- ble of being applied to other events than those, to which Christians apply them — that this would not confute or destroy the force of the argument from prophecy, even with regard to those very instances. For, observe how Chap. VII ] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 257 this matter really is. If one knew such a person to be the sole author of such a book, and was certainly assured, or satisfied to any degree, that one knew the whole of what he intended in it; one should be assured or satis- fied to such degree, that one knew the whole meaning of that book: for the meaning of a book is nothing but the meaning of the author. But if one knew a person to have compiled a book out of memoirs, which he re- ceived from another, of vastly superior knowledge in the subject of it, especially if it were a book full of great intricacies and difficulties; it would in no wise follow, that one knew the whole meaning of the book, from knowing; tlie whole meaning of the compiler: for the original memoirs, i. e. the author of them, might have, and there would be no degree of presumption, in many cases, against supposing him to have, some further meaning than the compiler saw. To say then, that the Scriptures, and the things contained in them, can have no other or further meaning than those persons thought or had, who first recited or wrote them, is evidently saying, that those persons were the original, proper, and sole authors of those books, i. e. that they are not in- spired: which is absurd, whilst the authority of these books is under examination; i. e. till you have deter- mined thev are of no divine authoritv at ail. Till this be determined, it must in all reason be supposed, not indeed that they have, for this is taking for granted that they. are inspired; but that they may have, some further meaning than what the compilers saw or understood. And, upon this supposition, it is supposable also, that this further meaning may be fulfilled. Now events corre- sponding to prophecies, interpreted in a difterent meaning from that, in which the prophets are supposed to have understood them ; this aflbrds, in a manner, the same proof, that this different sense was originally intended, as it would have afforded, if the prophets had not understood their predictions in the sense it is supposed they did: because there is no presumption of their sense of them being the whole sense of them. And it has been al- ready shown, tliat the apparent completions of j>rophecy must be allowed to be explanatorv of its meaning. So It 258 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [Part II. that the question is, whether a series of prophecy has been fulfilled, in a natural or proper, i, e. in any real sense of the words of it. For such completion is equally a proof of foresight more than human, whether the pro- phets are, or are not, supposed to have understood it in a different sense. I say, supposed: for, though I think it clear, that the prophets did not understand the full meaning of their predictions ; it is another question, how far they thought they did, and in what sense they under- stood them. Hence may be seen, to how little purpose those per- sons busy themselves, who endeavour to prove, that the prophetic history is apphcable to events of the age in which it was written, or of ages before it. Indeed to have proved this, before there was any appearance of a further completion of it, might have answered some pur- pose; for it might 'have prevented the expectation of any such further completion. Thus could Porphyry have shown, that some principal parts of the book of Daniel, for instance, the seventh verse of the seventh chapter, which the Christians interpreted of the latter ages, was applicable to events, which happened before or about the age of Antiochus Epiphanes; this might have prevented them from expecting any further completion of it. And, unless there was then, as I think there must have been, external evidence concerning that book, more than is come down to us; such a discovery might have been a stumbling-block in the wav of Christianitv itself: con- sidering the authority which our Saviour has given to the book of Daniel, and how much the general scheme of Christianity presupposes the truth of it. But even this discovery, had there been any such,* would be of very little weight with reasonable men now ; if this passage, thus applicable to events before the age of Porphyry, appears to be applicable also to events, which succeeded the dissolution of the Roman empire. I * It appears that Porphyry (I'ul not.liiiic- worLli nn'ntioiiliij];- in (his way. For Jerome on th«' placf says : Duns posieriorrs I.estiiis — in into Mncpilonitni regno ponit. And as to tlx- ten kin^s ; Den ui regrs enitnierut qui fiiervnt sa vissinii : ipsosi/ue rrges non uniiis ponit regni. verhi gratin, A.ftreifunire , St/rice, ^siie, et .Kgt/pfi ; sed dc divcaif 'f-egnis unnm eJjTicit renuni ordinem. And in this way of interpretation, any tliJiig may he in;iow, be found to be, not only con- sistent with justice, but instances of it. Indeed it has been shown, by the analogy of what we see, not only possible that this may be the case, but credible that it is* And thus objections, drawn from such things, are an-- swered, and Providence is vindicated, as far as religion: makes its vindication necessary. Hence it appears, secondly, that objections against the Divine justice and goodness are not endeavoured to be removed, by show- • ing that the like objections, allowed to be really conclu- sive, lie against natural providence : but those objections being supposed and shown not to be conclusive, the things objected against, considered as matters of fact, are farther shown to be credible, from their conformity to the constitution of nature; for instance, that God will re- ward and punish men for their actions hereafter, from the observation, that he does reward and punish them for their actions here. And this, I apprehend, is of weight. And I add, thirdly, it would be of weight, even- though those objections were not answered. For, there being the proof of religion above set down ; and religion- implying several facts; for instance again, the fact last mentioned, that God will reward and punish men for their actions hereafter; the observation, that his present" method of government is by rewards and punishments, shows that future fact not to be incredible: whatever ob- jections men may think they have against it, as unjust or • unmerciful, according to their notions of justice and mercy; or as improbable from their belief of necessity. I say, as improbable: for it is evident no objection against it, as unjust, can be urged from necessity; since this no- tion as much destroys injustice, as it does justice. Then, fourthly. Though objections against the reasonableness of the system of religion cannot inde. d be answered with- out entering into consideration of its reasonableness; vet objections against the credibility or truth of it may. . Because th • system of it is reducible into what is pro- perly matter of fact: and the truth, the probable truths Chap. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 281 of facts, may be shown without consideration of their reasonableness. Nor is it necessary, though, in some cases and respects, it is highly useful and proper, yet it is not necessary, to give a proof of the reasonableness of every precept enjoined us, and of every particular dis- pensation of Providence, which comes into the system of religion. Indeed the more thoroughly a person of a right disposition is convinced of the perfection of the Divine nature and conduct, the farther he will advance towards that perfection of religion, which St John* speaks of. But the general obhgations of religion are fully made out, by proving the reasonableness of the practice of it. And that the practice of religion is reasonable, may be shown, though no more could be proved, than that the system of it may be so, for ought we know to the contrary: and even without entering into the distinct consideration of this. And from hence, fifthly. It is easy to sec, that though the analogy of nature is not an imme- diate answer to objections against the wisdom, the jus- tice, or goodness, of any doctrine or precept of religion; yet it may be, as it is, an immediate and direct answer to what is really intended by such objections ; which is, to show that the things objected against are incre- dible. Fourthly^ It is most readily acknowledged, that the foregoing treatise is by no means satisfactory ; very far indeed from it : but so would any natural institution of life appear, if reduced into a system, together with its evidence. Leaving religion out of the case, men are divided in their opinions, whether our pleasures over- balance our pains : and whether it be, or be not, eligible to live in this world. And were all such controversies settled, which perhaps, in speculation, would be found involved in great dithculties ; and were it determined upon the evidence of reason, as nature has detenninod it to our hands, that life is to be preserved: yet still, the rules which God has been ])leased to afford us, for escap- ing the miseries of it, and obtaining its satisfactions, the rules, for instance, of preserving health, and recovering it when lost, are not only fallible and precarious, but ♦ John iv. 18. 282 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [Part II. very far from being exact. Nor are we informed by na- ture, in future contingencies and accidents, so as to ren- der it at all certain, what is the best method of managing our affairs. What will be the success of our temporal pursuits, in the common sense of the word Success, is highly doubtful. And what will be the success of them in the proper sense of the word ; i. e. what happiness or enjoyment we shall obtain by them, is doubtful in a much higher degree. Indeed the unsatisfactory nature of the evidence, with which we are obliged to take up, in the daily course of hfe, is scarce to be expressed. Yet men do not throw away life, or disregard the interests of it, upon account of this doubtfulness. The evidence of re- ligion then being admitted real, those who object against it, as not satisfactory, i. e. as not being what they wish it, plainly forget the very condition of our being : for satisfaction, in this sense, does not belong to such a creature as man. And, which is more material, they forget also the very nature of religion. For, religion pre- supposes, in all those who will embrace it, a certain de- gree of integrity and honesty; which it was intended to try whether men have or not, and to exercise in such as have it, in order to its improvement. Religion presup- poses this as much, and in the same sense, as speaking to a man presupposes he understands the language in which you speak ; or as warning a man of any danger presupposes that he hath such a regard to himself, as that he will endeavour to avoid it. And therefore the question is not at all. Whether the evidence of religion be satisfactory ; but Whether it be, in reason, sufficient to prove and discipline that virtue, which it presupposes. Now the evidence of it is fully sufficient for all those purposes of probation ; how far soever it is from being satisfactory, as to the purposes of curiosity, or any other: and indeed it answers the purposes of the former in several respects, which it would not do, if it were as overbearing as is required. One might add farther; that whether the motives or the evidence for any course of action be satisfactory, meaning here, by that word, what satisfies a man, that such a course of action will in event be for his good ; this need never be, and I think, strictly Chap. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 283 speaking, never is, the practical question in comnaon matters. But the practical question in all cases is, Whether the evidence for a course of action be such as, taking in all circumstances, makes the faculty within ns, which is the guide and judge of conduct,* determine that course of action to be prudent. Indeed, satisfaction that it will be for our interest or happiness, abundantly deter- mines an action to be prudent : but evidence almost in- finitely lower than this, determines actions to be so too ; even in the conduct of every day. Fifthly, As to the objection concerning the influence w^hich this argument, or any part of it, may, or may not be expected to have upon men ; I observe, as above, that religion being intended for a trial and exercise of the morality of every person's character, who is a sub- ject of it; and there being, as I have shown, such evi- dence for it, as is sufficient, in reason, to influence men to embrace it : to object, that it is not to be imagined mankind will be influenced by such evidence, is nothing to the purpose of the foregoing treatise. For the pur- pose of it is not to inquire, what sort of creatures man- kind are ; but what the light and knowledge, which is afforded them, requires they should be : to show how, in reason, they ought to behave ; not how, in fact, they will behave. This depends upon themselves, and is their own concern ; the personal concern of each man in par- ticular. And how little regard the generality have to it, experience indeed does too fully show. But religion, considered as a probation, has had its end upon all per- sons, to whom it has been proposed with evidence suf- ficient in reason to influence their practice: for by this means they have been put into a state of probation ; let them behave as they will in it. And thus, not only re- velation, but reason also, teaches us, that by the evidence of rcli«^ion being laid before me n, the designs of Provi- dence are carrying on, not only with regard to those who will, but likewise with regard to those who will not, be influenced by it. However, lastly, the objection here re- ferred to, allows the things insisted upon in this tn^alise to be of some weight ; and if so, it may be hoped it will * See Diss< rt. H. 284 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [PartH. have some influence. And if there be a probabiHty that it will have any at all, there is the same reason in kind, though not in degree, to lay it before men, as there would be, if it were likely to have a greater influence. And farther, I desire it may be considered, with re- spect to the whole of the foregoing objections, that in this treatise I have argued upon the principles of others,* not my own : and have omitted what I think true, and of the utmost importance, because by others thought unintelli- gible, or not true. Thus I have argued upon the prin- ciples of the Fatalists, which I do not believe : and have omitted a thing of the utmost importance which I do be- lieve, the moral fitness and unfitness of actions, prior to all will whatever; which I apprehend as certainly to determine the Divine conduct, as speculative truth and falsehood necessarily determine the Divine judgment. Indeed the principle of liberty, and that of moral fitness, so force themselves upon the mind, that morahsts, the ancients as well as moderns, have formed their language upon it. And probably it may appear in mine : though I have endeavoured to avoid it; and, in order to avoid it, have sometimes been obliged to express myself in a manner, which will appear strange to such as do not observe the reason for it: but the general argument here pursued does not at all suppose, or proceed upon these principles. Now, these two abstract principles of liberty and moral fitness being omitted, religion can be consid- ered in no other view, than merely as a question 6f fact: and in this view it is here considered. It is obvious, that Christianity, and the proof of it, are both historical. And even natural religion is, properly, a matter of fact. For, that there is a righteous Governor of the world, is so: and this proposition contains the general system of natural religion. But then, several abstract truths, and in particular those two principles, are usually taken into consideration in the proof of it: whereas it is here treated of only as a matter of fact. To explain this: that the three angles of a triangle arc equal to two right ones, * By arguing upon the principles of others, the rrader will observe is meant, not proving any thinp^ from those i)riiicipi<'s, hut 7iotvuths(and/fifS them. Thus religion is prov»{l, not /rrym tiie opinion of necessity; which is absurd : h\xi, notxvitkstanditig or even though that opinion were admitted to be true. Chap. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 285 is an abstract truth: but that they appear so to our mind, is only a matter of fact. And this last must have been admitted, if any thing was, by those ancient sceptics, who would not have admitted the former: but pretended to doubt. Whether there were any such thing as truth, or Whether we could certainly depend upon our faculties of understanding for the knowledge of it in any case. So likewise, that there is, in the nature of things, an original standard of right and wrong in actions, indepen- dent upon all will, but which unalterably determines the will of God, to exercise that moral government over the world, which religion teaches, i. e. finally and upon the whole to reward and punish men respectively as they act right or wrong; this assertion contains an abstract truth, as well as matter of fact. But suppose, in the present state, every man, without exception, was rewarded and punished, in exact proportion as he followed or trans- gressed that sense of right and wrong, which God has implanted in the nature of every man: this would not be at all an abstract truth, but only a matter of fact. And though this fact were acknowledged by every one; yet the very same difficulties might be raised as are now, concerning the abstract questions of liberty and moral fitness: and we should have a proof, even the certain one of experience, that the government of the world was perfectly moral, without taking in the consideration of those questions: and this proof would remain, in what way soever they were determined. And thus, God hav- ing given mankind a moral faculty, the object of which is actions, and which naturally approves some actions as right, and of good desert, and condemns others as wrong, and of ill desert; that he will, finally and upon the whole, reward the former and punish the latter, is not an asser- tion of an abstract truth, but of what is as mere a fact, as his doing so at present would be. This future fact I have not, indeed, proved with the force with which it might be proved, from the principles of liberty and moral fitness; but without them liavc given a really conclusive practical proof of it, which is greatlv strengtlicn(?d by the general analogy of natiue: a proof easily cavilled at, easily shown not to be demonstrative, for it is not offered 286 CONCLUSION. [PARTir, as such; but impossible, I think, to be evaded, or an- swered. And thus the obhgations of rehgion are made out, exclusively of the questions concerning liberty and moral fitness; which have been perplexed with difficul- ties and abstruse reasonings, as every thing may. Hence therefore may be observed distinctly, what is the force of this treatise. It will be, to such as are con- vinced of rehgion upon the proof arising out of the two last mentioned principles, an additional proof and a con- firmation of it: to such as do not admit those principles^ an original proof of it,* and a confirmation of that proof. Those who believe will here find the scheme of Chris- tianity cleared of objections, and the evidence of it in a peculiar manner strengthened: those who do not beheve will at least be shown the absurdity of all attempts to prove Christianity false, the plain undoubted credibility of it; and, I hope, a good deal more. And thus, though some perhaps may seriously think, that analogy, as here urged, has too great stress laid upon it; and ridicule, unanswerable ridicule, may be applied, to show the argument from it in a disadvan- tageous light; yet there can be no question, but that it is a real one. For religion, both natural and revealed, implying in it numerous facts; analogy, being a confir- mation of all facts to which it can be applied, as it is the only proof of most, cannot but be admitted by every one to be a material thing, and truly of weight on the side of religion, both natural and revealed: and it ought to be particularly regarded by such as profess to follow nature, and to be less satisfied with abstract reasonings. CONCLUSION. Whatever account may be given of the strange inat- tention and disregard, in some ages and countries, to a matter of such importance as Religion; it would, before experience, be incredible, that there should be the like disregard in those, who have had the moral system of the world laid before them, as it is by Christianity, and * p. 141, &c. p^RT II.l CONCLUSION. 287 often inculcated upon them : because this moral system carries in it a good degree of evidence for its truth, upon its being barely proposed to our thoughts. There is no need of abstruse reasonings and distinctions, to convince an unprejudiced understanding, that there is a God who made and governs the world, and will judge it in right- eousness; though they may be necessary to answer abstruse difficulties, when once such are raised: when the very meaning of those words, which express most intelhgibly the general doctrine of religion, is pretended to be uncertain; and the clear truth of the thing itself is obscured by the intricacies of speculation. But to an unprejudiced mind, ten thousand thousand instinces of design cannot but prove a designer. And it is intui- tively manifest, that creatures ought to live under a duti- ful sense of their Maker; and that justice and charity must be his laws, to creatures whom he has made social, and placed in society. Indeed the truth of revealed religion, peculiarly so called, is not self-evident, but re- quires external proof, in order to its being received. Yet inattention, among us, to revealed religion, will be found to imply the same dissolute immoral temper of mind, as inattention to natural religion: because, when boh are laid before us, in the manner thev are in Chris- tian countries of liberty, our obligations to inquire into ooth, and to embrace both upon supposition of their truth, are obligations of the same nature. For, revela- tion claims to be the voice of God: and our obligation to attend to his voice is surely moral in all cases. And as it is insisted, that its evidence is conclusive, upon thorough consideration of it; so it offers itself to us with manifest obvious appearances of having somcthinc: more than liuman in it, and therefore in all reason requires to have its claims most seriously examined into. It is to be added, that though light and knowledge, in what manner soever afforded us, is equally from (Jod; yet a miraculous revelation has a peculiar tendency, from the first principles of our nature, to awaken mankind, and mspire them with reverence and awe : and this is a peculiar oblio^ation, to attend to what claims to be so with such appearances of truth. It is therefore most 288 CONCLUSION. [Part II. certain, that our obligations to inquire seriously into the evidence of Christianity, and, upon supposition of its truth, to embrace it, are of the utmost importance, and moral in the highest and most proper sense. Let us then suppose, that the evidence of religion in general, and of Christianity, has been seriously inquired into, by all reasonable men among us. Yet we find many pro- fessedly to reject both, upon speculative principles of infidelity. And all of them 4o not content themselves with a bare neglect of religion, and enjoying their ima- ginary freedom from its restraints. Some go much beyond this. They deride God's moral government over the world. They renounce his protection, and defv^ his justice. They ridicule and vilify Christianity, and blaspheme the author of it ; and take all occasions to manifest a scorn and contempt of revelation. This amounts to an active setting themselves against religion ; to what may be considered as a positive principle of irre- ligion ; which they cultivate within themselves, and, whether they intend this effect or not, render habitual, as a good man docs the contrary principle. And others, who are not chargeable with all this profligateness, yet are in avovred opposition to religion, as if discovered to be groundless. Now admitting, which is the supposition we go upon, that these persons act upon what they think principles of reason, and otherwise they are not to be argued w^th; it is really inconceivable, that they should imagine they clearly see the whole evidence of it, considered in itself, to be nothing at all: nor do they pretend this. They are far indeed from having a just notion of its evidence: but they would not say its evi- dence was nothing, if they thought the system of it, with all its circumstances, were credible, like other matters of science or history. So their manner of treating it must proceed, either from such kind of objections against all religion, as have been answered or obviated in the for- mer part of this treatise; or cisc from obj( ctions, and difficulties, supposed more peculiar to Christianity. Thus, they entertain prejudices against the whole no- tion of a revelation, and miraculous interpositions. They find things in Scripture, whether in incidental PkRT II.1 CONCLUSION. 289 passages, or in the general scheme of it, which appear to them unreasonable. They take for granted, that if Christianity were true, the light of it must have been more general, and the evidence of it more satisfactory, or rather overbearing: ; that it must and would have been, in some way, otherwise put and left, than it is. Now this is not imagining they see the evidence itself to be nothing, or inconsiderable ; but quite another thing. It is being fortified against the evidence, in some degree acknowledged, by thinking they see the system of Chris- tianity, or somewhat which appears to them necessarily connected with it, to be incredible or false ; fortified against that evidence, which might, otherwise, make great impression upon them. Or, lastly, if any of these persons are, upon the whole, in doubt concerning the truth of Christianity ; their behaviour seems owing to their taking for granted, through strange inattention, that such doubting is, in a manner, the same thing as being certain against it. To these persons, and to this state of opinion con- cerning religion, the foregoing treatise is adapted. For, all the general objections against the moral system of nature having been obviated, it is shown, that there is not any peculiar presumption at all against Christianity, either considered as not discoverable by reason, or as un- like to what is so discovered ; nor any worth mentioning against it as miraculous, if any at all ; none, certainly, which can render it in the least incredible. It is shown, that, upon supposition of a divine revelation, the analogy of nature renders it beforehand highly credible, I think probable, that many things in- it must appear liable to great objections ; and that we must be incompetent judges of it, to a great degree. This observation is, 1 think, unquestionably true, and of the very utmost importance: but it is urged, as I hope it will be understood, with great caution of not vilifying the faculty of reason, which is the candle of the Lord iritliin us though it can afford no light, where it does not shine ; nor judge, whore it has no principles to judge upon. The objections here spoken of, being first answered in the view of objections ♦ Prov. XX. 27 T 290 CONCLUSION. [Part II. against Christianity as a matter of fact, are in the next place considered as urged more immediately against the wisdom, justice, and goodness of the Christian dispensa- tion. And it is fully made out, that they admit of exactly the like answer, in every respect, to what the like objections against the constitution of nature admit of : that, as partial views give the appearance of wrong to things, which, upon further consideration and know- ledge of their relations to other things, are found just and good ; so it is perfectly credible, that the things objected against the wisdom and goodness of the Chris- tian dispensation, may be rendered instances of wis- dom and goodness, by their reference to other things beyond our view : because Christianity is a scheme as much above our comprehension, as that of nature ; and like that, a scheme in which means are made use of to accomplish ends, and which, as is most credible, may be carried on by general laws. And it ought to be attended to, that this is not an answer taken merely or chiefly from our ignorance ; but from somewhat positive, which our observation shows us. For, to like objections, the like answer is experienced to be just, in numberless parallel cases. The objections against the Christian dispensation^ and the method by which it is carried on, having been thus obviated, in general and together ; the chief of them are considered distinctly, and the particular things ob- jected to are shown credible, by their perfect analogy, each apart, to the constitution of nature. Thus, if man be fallen from his primitive state, and to be restored, and in- finite wisdom and power engages in accomplishing our recovery : it were to have been expected, it is said, that this should have been effected at once ; and not by such a long series of means, and such a various economy of persons and things ; one dispensation preparatory to another, this to a further one, and so on through an in- definite number of ages, before the end of the scheme proposed can be completely accomplished ; a scheme conducted by infinite wisdom, and executed by almighty power. But now, on the contrary, our finding that every thing in the constitution and course of nature is thus carried on, shows such expectations concerning Part II.] CONCLUSION. 291 revelation to be liighly unreasonable ; and is a satisfac- tory answer to them, when urged as objections against the credibility, that the great scheme of Providence in the redemption of the world may be of this kind, and to be accomplished in this manner. As to the particular method of our redemption, the appointment of a Medi- ator between God and man : this has been shown to be most obviously analogous to the general conduct of na- ture, i e. the God of nature, in appointing others to be the instruments of his mercy, as we experience in the daily course of providence. The condition of this world, which the doctrine of our redemption by Christ presup- poses, so much falls in with natural appearances, that heathen moralists inferred it from those appearances : inferred, that human nature was fallen from its original rectitude, and in consequence of this, degraded from its primitive happiness. Or, however this opinion came into the world, these appearances must have kept up the tradition, and confirmed the belief of it. And as it was the general opinion under the light of nature, that repentance and reformation, alone and by itself, was not sufficient to do away sin, and procure a full remission of the penalties annexed to it ; and as the reason of the thing does not at all lead to any such conclusion ; so every day's experience shows us, that reformation is not, in any sort, sufficient to prevent the present disadvan- tages and miseries, which, in the natural course of things, God has annexed to folly and extravagance. Yet there may be ground to think, that the punish- ments, which, by the general laws of divine government, are annexed to vice, may be prevented : that provision may have been, even originally, made, that they should be prevented by some means or other, though they could not by reformation alone. For we have daily in- stances oi' s?/(:h iticrcj/y in the general conduct of nature : compassion provided for misery,* medicines for diseases, friends against enemies. There is ])r()vision m l(l(^ in the oj-iginal constitution of the worUl, that nmch of the natural bad consequences of our follies, which persons themselves alone cannot prevent, may be prevented by • Serm. at tho Roll-, p. lOG. a T CONCL SION. [Part fl. the assistance of others ; assistance, which nature ena- bles, and disposes, and appoints them to afford. By a method of goodness analogous to this, when the world lay in wickedness, and consequently in ruin, God so loved the world, that he gave his only he gotten Son to save it: and he being made perfect hy sufferings became the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey him,^ Indeed neither reason nor analogy would lead us to think, in particular, that the interposition of Christ, in the manner in which he did interpose, would be of that efficacy for recovery of the w^orld, which the Scripture teaches us it was : but neither would reason nor analogy lead us to think, that other particular means would be of the effi- cacy, which experience shows they are, in numberless instances. And therefore, as the case before us does not admit of experience ; so, that neither reason nor analogy can show how, or in what particular way, the interposition of* Christ, as revealed in Scripture, is of that efficacy^ which it is there represented to be ; this is no kind nor degree of presumption against its being really of that efficacy. Further : the objections against Christianity, from the light of it not being universal, nor its evidence so strong as might possibly be given us, have been answered by the general analogy of nature. That God has made such variety of creatures, is indeed an answer to the former: but that he dispenses his gifts in such variety, both of degrees and kinds, amongst creatures of the same species, and even to the same individuals at different times ; is a more obvious and full answer to it. And it is so far from being the method of Providence in other cases, to afford us such overbearing evidence, as some require in proof of Christianity ; that on the contrary, the evidence upon which we are naturally appointed to act in common matters, throughout a very great part of life, is doubtful in a high degree. And admitting the fact, that God has afforded to some no more than doubtful evidence of religion ; the same account may be given of it, as of difficulties and temptations with regard to prac- tice. But as it is not in)possible,| surely, that this alleged doubtfulness may be men's own fault ; it deserves their • John iii. IG. Hub. v. 9. f P. 237, &c. Part II.] CONCLUSION. 293 most serious consideration, whether it be not so. How- ever, it is certain, that doubting implies a degree of evi- dence for that of which we doubt : and that this degree of evidence as really lays us under obligations as demon- strative evidence. The whole then of religion is throughout credible : nor is there, I think, any thing relating to the revealed dis- pensation of things, more different from the experienced constitution and course of nature, than some parts of the constitution of nature are from other parts of it. And if so, the only question which remains is, what positive evidence can be alleged for the truth of Christianity. This too in general has been considered, and the objec- tions against it estimated. Deduct, therefore, what is to be deducted from that evidence, upon account of any weight which may be thought to remain in these objec- tions, after what the analogy of nature has suggested in answer to them : and then consider, what are the practi- cal consequences from all this, upon the most sceptical principles one can argue upon (for I am writing to per- sons who entertain these principles) : and upon such consideration it will be obvious, that immorality, as little excuse as it admits of in itself, is greatly aggravated, in persons who have been made acquainted with Christia- nity, whether they believe it or not : bt^cause the moral system of nature, or natural religion, which Christianity lays before us, approves itself, almost intuitively, to a reasonable mind, upon seeing it proposed. In the next place, with regard to Christianity, it will be observed ; that there is a middle between a full satisfaction of the truth of it, and a satisfaction of the contrary. The middle state of mind between these two consists in a serious apprehension, that it may be true, joined with doubt whether it be so. And this, upon the best judg- ment I am able to make, is as far towards «peculativo infidelity, as any sceptic can at all be suj^posed to go, who has had true Christianity, with the propcM* evidences of it, laid before him, and has in any tolerable measure considered them. For I would not be mistaken to com- prehend all who have ever heard of it : because it seems evident, that in many countries called Christian, neither 294 CONCLUSION. [Part II. Christianity, nor its evidence, are fairlj^ laid before men And in places where both are, there appear to be some who have very little attended to either, and who reject Christianity with a scorn proportionate to their inatten* tion; and yet are by no means without understanding in otiier matters. Now it has been shown, that a serious apprehension that Christianity may be true, la3^s per- sons under the strictest obligations of a serious regard to ir, throughout the whole of their life, a regard not the same exactly, but in many respects nearly the same w^ith what a full conviction of its truth would lay them under. Lastly, it will appear, that blasphemy and pro- faneness, I mean with regard to Christianity, are ab- solutely without excuse. For there is no temptation to it, but from the wantonness of vanity or mirth, and these, considering the infinite importance of the subject, are no such temptations as to afford any excuse for it. If this be a just account of things, and yet men can go on to vilify or disregard Christianity, which is to talk and act as if they had a demonstration of its falsehood, there is no reason to think they would alter their be- haviour to any purpose, though there were a demon- stration of its truth. TWO BRIEF DISSERTATIONS. I. OF PERSONAL IDENTITY, n. OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE- DISSERTATION 1. OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. Whether we are to live in a future state, as it is tlie most important question which can possibly be asked, so it is the most intelligible one which can be expressed in languas^e. Yet strange perplexities have been raised about the meaning of that identity or sameness of per- son, which is implied in the notion of our living now and hereafter, or in any two successive moments. And the solution of these difficulties hath been stranger than the difficulties themselves. For, personal identity has been explained so by some, as to render the inquiry concern- ing a future life of no consequence at all to us the per- sons who are making it. And though few men can be misled by such subtleties ; yet it may be proper a little to consider them. Now, when it is asked wherein personal identity con- sists, the answer should be the same, as if it were asked wherein consists similitude, or equality ; that all attempts to define would but perplex it. Yet there is no difficulty at all in ascertaining the idea. For as, upon two triangles being com[)arcd or viewed together, there arises to the mind the idea of similitude ; or upon twice two and four, the idea of equality : so likewise, upon comparing the consciousness of one's self, or one's own existence, in any two moments, there as immediately arises to the mind the idi^a of personal identity. And as the two for- mcr coujparisons not only give us the ideas of similitude and equa ity ; but also show us, that two triangles are alike, and twice two and four are equal : so tlu' latter comparison not only gives us the idea of piu'sonal iden- tity, but also shows us the identity of ourselves in those two moments ; the present, suppose, and that immedi- ately past; or the present, and that a month, a year, or twenty years past. Or in other words, by reflecting upon that which is myself now, and that wliieh was mvsel^ 298 OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. [Diss. I. twenty years ago, I discern they are not two, but one and the same self. But though consciousness of what is past does thus ascertain our personal identity to ourselves, yet to say, that it makes personal identity, or is necessary to our being the same persons, is to say, that a person has not existed a single moment, nor done one action, but what he can remember ; indeed none but what he reflects upon. And one should really think it self-evident, that consciousness of personal identity presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, personal identity ; any more than knowledge, in any other case, can constitute truth, which it presupposes. This wonderful mistake may possibly have arisen from hence ; that to be endued with consciousness is insepa- rable from the idea of a person, or intelligent being. For, this might be expressed inaccurately thus, that conscious- ness makes personality : and from hence it might be concluded to make personal identity. But though pre- sent consciousness of what we at present do and feel is necessary to our being the persons we now are ; yet present consciousness of past actions or feelings is not necessary to our being the same persons who performed those actions, or had those feelings. The inquiry, what makes vegetables the same in the common acceptation of the word, does not appear to have any relation to this of personal identity ; because, the word same, when applied to them and to person, is not only applied to different subjects, but it is also used in different senses. For when a man swears to the same tree, as having stood fifty years in the same place, he means only the same as to all the purposes of property and uses of common life, and not that the tree has been all that time the same in the strict philosophical sense of the word. For he does not know, whether any one particle of the present tree be the same with any one particle of tlo tree which stood in the same place fifty years ago. And if they have not one common particle of matter, they cannot be the same tree in the proper ])liih)so})hic sense of the word smnc : it being evidently a contradiction in terms, to say they are, when no part of Diss. T.] OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 299 their substance, and no one of their properties is the same : no part of their subst ince, by the su[)position ; no one of their properties, because it is allowed, that the same property cannot be transferred from one substance to another. And therefore when we say the identity or sameness of a plant consists m a continuation of the same life, communicated under the same organization, to a number of particles of matter, whether the same or not; the word same, when applied to life and to organi- zation, cannot possibly be understood to signify, what it signifies in this very sentence, when applied to matter. In a loose and popular sense then, the lite and the orga- nization and the plant are justly said to be the same, notwithstanding the perpetual change of the parts. But in a strict and philosophical manner of speech, no man, no being, no mode of being, no anything, can be the same with that, with which it has indeed nothing the same. Now sameness is used in this latter sense, when applied to persons. The identity of these, therefore, cannot subsist with diversity of substance. The thing here considered, and demonstratively, as I think, determined, is proposed by Mr Locke in these words, IVhetJier it, i. e. the same self or person, be the same identical substance? And he has suggested what is a much better answer to the question, than that which he gives it in form. For he defines Person, a thinking intelUii^tmt beinir^ &c., and personal identity, the sameness of a rational Being. ^ The question then is, whether the same rational being is the same substance : which needs no answer, because Being and Substance, in this place, stand for the same idea. The ground of the doubt, whether the same person be the same substance, is said to be this ; that the consciousness of our own existence, in youth and in old age, or in any two joint successive moments, is not the same indiridual action,] i. e. not the same consciousness, but dilierent successive conscious- nesses. Now it is strange that this shouUl have occa- sioned such ])erplcxities. For it is surely conceival)le, that a person may have a capacitv of knowing some object or other to be the same now, which it was w hen he ♦ Locke s Works, vol. i. p. 14G. f l^otl^c, j'. I4G, 147. 300 OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. [Diss, I. contemplated it formerly : yet in this case, where, by the supposition, the object is perceived to be the same, the perception of it in any two moments cannot be one and the same perception. And thus, though the successive consciousnesses, which we have of our own existence, are not the same, yet are they consciousnesses of one and the same thing or object; of the same person, self, or living agent. The person, of whose existence the consciousness is felt now, and was felt an hour or a year ago, is discerned to be, not two persons, but one and the same person ; and therefore is one and the same. Mr Locke's observations upon this subject appear hasty : and he seems to profess himself dissatisfied with suppositions, which he has made relating to it.* But some of those hasty observations have been carried to a strange length by others ; whose notion, when traced and examined to the bottom, amounts, I think, to this :f That Personality is not a permanent, but a transient thing : that it lives and dies, begins and ends continually : that no one can any more remain one and the same per- son two moments too^ether, than two successive moments can be one and the same moment : that our substance is indeed continually changing ; but whether this be so or not, is, it seems, nothing to the purpose ; since it is not substance, but consciousness alone, which constitutes personality : which consciousness, being successive, can- not be the same in any two moments, nor consequently the personality constituted by it." And from hence it must follow, that it is a fallacy upon ourselves, to charge our present selves with any thing we did, or to imagine our present selves interested in any thing which befell us yesterday; or that our present self will be interested in what will befall us to-iuorrow : since our present self is not, in reality, the same with the self of yesterday, but another like self or person coming in its room, and mis- taken for it; to which another self will succeed to-mor- row. This, I say, must follow : for if the self or person of to-day, and that of to-morrow, are not the same, but • Lncko, p. 1.02. f See an Answer to Dr Clarke's '1 liird Defence of his LcUcr to Mr DodwclU 2d edit. p. 4-4, 56, &c. Eiss. I.] OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 301 only like persons; the person of to-day is really no more interested in what ^vill befall the person of to morrow, than in what will befall any other person. It may be thought, perhaps, that this is not a just representation of the opinion we are speaking of : because those who main- tain it allow, that a person is the same as far back as his remembrance reaches. And indeed they do use the words, identitij, and same person. Nor will language per- mit these words to be laid aside ; since if they were, there must be I know not what ridiculous periphrasis substituted in the room of them. But they cannot con- sistently with themselves, mean, that the person is really the same. For it is self-evident, that the personality cannot be really the same, if, as they expressly assert, that in which it consists is not the same. And as, con- sistently with themselves, they cannot, so, I think it ap- pears, they do not, mean, that the person is really the same, but only that he is so in a fictitious sense : in such a sense only as they assert, for this they do assert, that any number of persons whatever may be the same per- son. The bare unfolding this notion, and laying it thus naked and open, seems the best confutation of it. How- ever, since great stress is said to be put upon it, I add the followintr thino^s. Firsts This notion is absolutely contradictory to that certain conviction, which necessarily and every moment rises within us, when we turn our thouj^hts upon our- selves, when we reflect upon what is past, and look for- ward upon what is to come. All imagination of a daily change of that living agent which each man calls himself, for another, or of any such change throughout our whole present life, is entirely borne down by our natural sense of things. Nor is it possible for a person in his wits to alter his conduct, with regard to his health or affairs, from a suspicion, that, though he should live to-morrow, he should not, however, be the same person he is to-day. And yet, if it be reasonable to act, with respect to a future life, upon this notion, that personality is transient; it is reasonable to act upon it, with resjxH-t to the pre- sent. Ih're then is a notion equally applicable to reli- gion and to our temporal concerns ; and every one sees \ 302 OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. [Diss. I and feels the inexpressible absurdity of it in the latter case ; if, therefore, any can take up with it in the former, this cannot proceed from the reason of the thing, but must be owing to an inward unfairness, and secret cor- ruption of heart. Secondlyy It is not an idea, or abstract notion, or qua- lity, but a being only, which is capable of life and action, of happiness and misery. Now all beings confessedly continue the same, during the whole time of their exis- tence. Consider then a living being now existing, and which has existed for any time a'ive : this living being must have done and suffered and enjoyed, what it has done and suffered and enjoyed formerly (this living be- ing, I say, and not another), as really as it does and suf- fers and enjoys, what it does and suffers and enjoys this instant. All these successive actions, enjoyments, and sufferings, are actions, enjoyments, and sufferings, of the same living being, /ind they are so, prior to all consi- deration of its remembering or forgetting : since remem- berintr or fornrettinor can make no alteration in the truth of past matter of fact. And suppose this being endued with limited powers of knowledge and memory, there is no more difficulty in conceiving it to have a powder of knowing itself to be the same living being which it was some time ago, of remembering some of its actions, suf- ferings, and enjoyments, and forgetting others, than in conceiving it to know or remember or forget any thing else. Thirdlij^ Every person is conscious, that he is now the same person or self he was as far back as his re- membrance reaches : since when any one reflects upon a past action of his own, he is just as certain of the per- son who did that action, namely, himself, the person who now reflects upon it, as he is certain that the action was at all done. Nay, very often a person's assurance of an action having been done, of which he is absolutely assured, arises wholly from the consciousness that he himself did it. And this he, person, or self, must either be a substance, cr the i)roperty of some substance. If he, if person, be a substance ; then consciousness that he is the same person is consciousness that he is the same Diss. II.] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 303 substance. If the person, or he, be the property of a substance, still consciousness that he is the same pro- perty is as certain a proof that his substance remains the same, as consciousness that he remains the same sub- stance would be : since the same property cannot be transferred from one substance to another. But though we are thus certain, that we are the same agents, living beings, or substances, now, which we were as far back as our remembrance reaches; yet it is asked, whether we may not possibly be deceived in it? And this question may be asked at the end of any demonstra- tion whatever: because it is a question concerning the truth of perception by memory. And he who can doubt, whether perception by memory can in this case be de- pended upon, may doubt also, whether perception by deduction and reasoning, which also include memory, or indeed whether intuitive perception can. Here then we can go no further. For it is ridiculous to attempt to prove the truth of those perceptions, whose truth we can no otherwise prove, than by other perceptions of exactly the same kind with them, and which there is just the same ground to suspect; or to attempt to prove the truth of our faculties, which can no otherwise be proved, than by the use or means of those very suspected faculties themselves. DISSERTATION II. OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. That which renders beings capable of moral gov(^rn- ment, is their having a moral nature, and moral faculties of percej)ti()n and of action. Brute creatures are impress- ed and actuated by various instincts and proj)ensi()ns : so also are we. But additional to this, we have a ca})acity of rt^tlectiiig uj)()n actions and characters, and making them an object to our thought: and on doing this, we naturally and unavoidably approve some actions, under the peculiar view of their bciiiii virtuous and of good desert; 304 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. [Diss. II. and disapprove others, as vicious and of ill desert. That we have this moral approving and disapproving* faculty, is certain from our experiencing it in ourselves, and recog- nizing it in each other. It appears from our exercising it unavoidably, in the approbation and disapprobation even of feigned characters : from the words right and wrong, odious and amiable, base and worthy, with many others of like signification in all languages applied to actions and characters : from the many written systems of morals which suppose it; since it cannot be imagined, that all these authors, throughout all these treatises, had abso- lutely no meaning at all to their words, or a meaning merely chimerical : from our natural sense of gratitude, which implies a distinction between merely being the instrument of good, and intending it: from the like dis- tinction every one makes between injury and mere harm, which, Hobbes says, is peculiar to mankind ; and between injury and just punishment, a distinction plainly natural, prior to the consideration of human laws. It is manifest great partf of common language, and of common beha- viour over the world, is formed upon supposition of such a moral faculty; whether called conscience, moral reason, moral sense, or divine reason ; whether considered as a sentiment of the understanding, or as a perception of the heart ; or, which seems the truth, as including both. Nor is it at all doubtful in the general, what course of action this faculty, or practical discerning power within us, approves and what it disapproves. For, as much as it has been disputed wherein virtue consists, or whatever ground for doubt there may be about particulars ; yet, in general, there is in reality a universally acknowledged standard of it. It is that, which all ages and all coun- tries have made profe^-sion of in public: it is that, which every man you meet })uts on the show of: it is that, * This way of s-|.M'akirn; is taken from Epictetus, f and is made use of as seeminij the most full, and least liahle to cavil. AnBg. n.] OP THE NATURE OP VITITUS. 811 disapprobation of falsehood, unprovoked violence, and injustice, must be, that he foresaw this constitution of our nature would produce more happiness, than forming us with a temper of mere general benevolence. But , still, since this is our constitution; falsehood, violence, injustice, must be vice in us, and benevolence to some, preferably to others, \drtue; abstracted from all consi- deration of the overbalance of evil or good, which they may appear likely to produce. Now if human creatures are endued with such a moral nature as we have been explaining, or wi^Ji a moral faculty, the natural object of which is actions: moral government must consist in rendering them happy and unhappy, in rewarding and punishing them, as they* follow, neglect, or depart from, the moral rule of action interwoven in their nature, or suggested and enforced by this moral faculty ;* in rewarding and punishing them upon account of their so doing. I am not sensible that I have, in this fifth observa- tion, contradicted what any author designed to assert. But some of great and distinguished merit, have, I think, expressed themselves in a manner, which may occasion some danger, to careless readers, of imagining the whole of virtue to consist in singly aiming, according to the best of their judgment, at promoting the happiness of mankind in the present state ; and the whole of vice, in doing what they foresee, or might foresee, is likely to produce an overbalance of unhappiness in it: than which mistakes, none can be conceived more terrible. For it is certain, that some of the most shocking instances of injustice, adulter}^ murder, peijury, and even of perse- cution, may, in many supposable cases, not have the appearance of being likely to produce an overbalance of misery in the present state; perhaps sometimes may have the contrary appearance. For this reflection might easily be carried on, but I forbear. — The happiness of the world is the concern of him who is the lord and the proprietor of it: nor do we know what we arc about, when we endeavour to promote the good of mankind in any ways, but those which he has directed; thai is • p. 145. 812 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. [Diss. IT* indeed in all ways not contrary to veracity and justice. I speak thus upon supposition of persons really endea- vouring, in some sort, to do good without regard to these. But the truth seems to be, that such supposed endeavours proceed, almost always, from ambition, the spirit of party, or some indirect principle, concealed perhaps in great measure from persons themselves. And though it is our business and our duty to endea- vour, within the bounds of veracity and justice, to con- tribute to the ease, convenience, and even cheerfulness and diversion of our fellow creatures: yet, from our short views, it is greatly uncertain, whether this endea- vour will, in particular instances, produce an overbalance of happiness upon the whole ; since so many and distant things must come into the account. And that which makes it our duty is, that there is some appearance that it will, and no positive appearance sufficient to balance this, on the contrary side ; and also, that such benevolent endeavour is a cultivation of that most excellent of all virtuous principles, the active principle of benevolence. However, though veracity, as well as justice, is to be our rule of life ; it must be added, otherwise a snare will be laid in the way of some plain men, that the use of common forms of speech, generally understood, cannot be falsehood ; and, in general, that there can be no designed falsehood without designing to deceive. It must like- wise be observed, that in numberless cases, a man may be under the strictest obligations to what he foresees will deceive, without his intending it. For it is impos- sible not to foresee, that the words and actions of men, in different ranks and employments, and of different educations, will perpetually be mistaken by each other: and. it cannot but be so, whilst they will judge with the utmost carelessness, as they daily do, of what they are not, perhaps, enough informed to be competent judges of, even though they considered it with great attention. END OF ANALOGY. SERMONS BY THE RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L. LORD BJSHOP OF DURHAM. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER, 59 CANAL STREET. PITTSBURG :— THOMAS CARTER. 1844. PREFACE. Though it is scarce possible to avoid judging, in some way or other, of almost every thing which offers itself to one's thoughts ; yet it is certain, that many persons, from different causes, never exercise their judgment, upon what comes before them, in the way of determining whe- ther it be conclusive, and holds. They are perhaps enter- tained with some things, not so with others ; they like, and they dislike : but whether that which is proposed to be made out be really made out or not; whether a matter be stated according to the real truth of the case, seems to the generality of people merely a circumstance of no con- sideration at all. Arguments are often wanted for some accidental purpose: but proof, as such, is what they never want for themselves ; for their own satisfaction of mind, or conduct in life. Not to mention the multitudes who read merely for the sake of talking, or to qualify them- selves for the world, or some such kind of reasons; there are, even of the few who read for their own entertain- ment, and have a real curiosity to see what is said, seve- ral, which is prodigious, who have no sort of curiosity to see what is true: I say, curiosity; because it is too ob- vious to be mentioned, how much that religious and sa- cred attention, vvliich is due to truth, and to the impor- tant question. What is the rule of Hfe ? is lost out of the world. For the ?ake of this whole class of readers, for they are of different capacities, different kinds, and get into this way from different occasions, I have often wished that it had been the custom to lay b( fore people nothing in matters of argument but premises, and leave them to draw conclusions themselves ; which, though it could not be done in all cases, mi^jht in many. The great number of books and papers of amusement, A iv PREFACE. which, of one kind or another, daily come in one's way, have in part occasioned, and most perfectly fall in with and humour, this idle way of reading and considering things. By this means, time even in solitude is happily got rid of, without the pain of attention : neither is any part of it more put to the account of idleness, one can scarce forbear saying, is spent with less thought, than great part of that which is spent in reading. Thus people habituate themselves to let things pass through their minds, as one may speak, rather than to think of them. Thus by use they become satisfied merely with seeing what is said, without going any fur- ther. Review and attention, and even forming a judg- ment, becomes fatigue ; and to lay any thing before them that requires it, is putting them quite out of their way. There are also persons, and there are at least more of them than have a right to claim such superiority, who take for granted, that they are acquainted with every thing; and that no subject, if treated in the manner it should be, can be treated in any manner but what is familiar and easy to them. It is true indeed, that few persons have a right to de- mand attention ; but it is also true, that nothing can be understood without that degree of it, which the very na- ture of the thing requires. Now morals, considered as a science, concerning which speculative difficulties are daily raised, and treated with regard to those difficulties, plainly require a very peculiar attention. For here ideas never are in themselves determinate, but become so by the train of reasoning and the place they stand in; since it is impossible that words can always stand for the same ideas, even in the same author, much less in different ones. Hence an argument may not readily be apprehended, which is different from its being mistak- en; and even caution to avoid being mistaken may, in some cases, render it less readily apprehended. It is very unallowable fo' 4 ■T^>rk of im&i;;ination or entertain- ment not to be of easy comprehension, but may be una- voidif belovr»i, or of knowlet{|[^. Hobbes's account of tiie utTecLiuus of good-will and pity are instances of llie same kiod. + Page 12'^, &c. X See the note, ixige 29- n xviii PREFACE. sible in numberless instances to determine precisely, how far an action, perhaps even of one's own, has for its principle general self-love, or some particular passion. But this need create no confusion in the ideas them- selves of self-love and particular passions. We dis- tinctly discern what one is, and what the other are: though we may be uncertain how far one or the other influences us. And though, from this uncertainty, it cannot but be that there will be different opinions con- cerning mankind, as more or less governed by interest ;. and some will ascribe actions to self-love, which others will ascribe to particular passions: yet it is absurd to say that mankind are wholly actuated by either ; since it is manifest that both have their influence. For as, on^ the one hand, men form a general notion of interest, some placing it in one thing, and some in another, and have a considerable regard to it throughout the course of their hfe, which is owing to self-love ; so, on the other hand, they are often set on work by the particular passions themselves, and a considerable part of life is? spent in the actual gratification of them, i. e. is employ- ed, not by self-love, but by the passions. Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit neces- sarily presupposes particular passions or appetites p since the very idea of interest or happiness consists in this, that an appetite or affection enjoys its object. It is* not because we love ourselves that we find delight in such and such objects, but because we have particular affections towards them. Take away these affections, and you leave self-love absolutely nothing at all to em- ploy itself about;* no end or object for it to pursue^, excepting only that of avoiding pain. Indeed the Epi- cureans, who maintained that absence of pain was the highest happiness, might, consistently with themselves, deny all affection, and, if they had so pleased, every sensual appetite too : but the very idea of interest or happiness other than absence of pain implies particular appetites or passions; these being necessary to constitute that interest or happiness. The observation, that benevolence is no more disiu- • Page 128. PREFACE. xix terested than any of the common particular passions,* seems in itself worth being taken notice of; but is insisted upon to obviate that scorn, which one sees rising upon the faces of people who are said to know the world, when mention is made of a disinterested, generous, or public- spirited action. The truth of that observation might be made appear in a more formal manner of proof : for whoever will consider all the possible respects and re- lations which any particular affection can have to self- love and private interest, will, I think, see demonstrably, that benevolence is not in any respect more at variance with self-love, than any other particular affection what- ever, but that it is in every respect, at least, as friendly to it. If the observation be true, it follows, that self-love and benevolence, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed, but only to be distinguished from each other; in the same way as virtue and any other particular affection, love of arts, suppose, are to be -distinguished. Every thing is what it is, and not another thing. The goodness or badness of actions does not arise from hence, that the epithet, interested or disinterested, may be applied to them, any more than that any other indifferent epithet, suppose inquisitive or jealous, may or may not be ap- plied to them ; not from their being attended with present or future pleasure or pain ; but from their being what they are; namely, what becomes such creatures as we are, what the state of the case requires, or the contrary. Or in other words, we may judge and determine, that an action is morally good or evil, before we so much as consider, whether it be interested or disinterested. This consideration no more comes in to determine whether an action be virtuous, than to determine whether it be resentful. Self-love in its due degree is as just and morally good, as any affection whatever. Benevolence towards particular persons may be to a degree of sveak- ness, and so be blameable : and disinterestedness is so far from being in itself commendable, that the utmost possible depravity which we can in imagination conceive, is that of disinterested cruelty. ♦ Pagr 13 \ 9tc. H2 XX PREFACE. Neither does there appear any reason to wish self-love were weaker in the generality of the world than it is. The influence which it has seems plainly owing to its being constant and habitual, which it cannot but be, and not to the degree or strength of it. Every caprice of the imagination, every curiosity of the understanding, every afl'ection of the heart, is perpetually showing its weak- ness, by prevailing over it. Men daily, hourly sacrifice tlie greatest known interest, to fancy, inquisitiveness, love, or hatred, any vagrant inclination. The thing to be lamented is, not that men have so great regard to their own good or interest in the present world, for they have not enough ;* but that they have so little to the good of others. And this seems plainly owing to their being so much engaged in the gratification of particular passions unfriendly to benevolence, and which happen to be most prevalent in them, much more than to self- love. As a proof of this may be observed, that there is no character more void of friendship, gratitude, natural affection, love to their country, common justice, or more equally and uniformly hard-hearted, than the abandoned in, what is called, the way of pleasure hard-hearted and totally without feeling in behalf of others; except when they cannot escape the sight of distress, and so are interrupted by it in their pleasures. And yet it is ridicu- lous to call such an abandoned course of pleasure interest- ed, when the person engaged in it knows beforehand, goes on under the feeling and apprehension, that it will be as ruinous to himself, as to those who depend upon him. Upon the whole, if the generality of mankind were to cultivate within themselves the principle of self-love ; if they were to accustom themselves often to set down and consider, what was the greatest happiness they were capable of attaining for themselves in this life, and if self- love were so strong and prevalent, as that they would uniformly pursue this their supposed chief temporal good, without being diverted from it by any particular passion ; it would manifestly prevent numberless follies and vices. This was in a great measure the Epicurean system of philosophy. It is indeed by no means the religious or * Page 3 1. PREFACE. Xxi even moral institution of life. Yet, with all the mistakes men would fall into about interest, it would be less mis- chievous than the extravagances of mere appetite, will, and pleasure : for certainly self-love, though confined to the interest of this life, is, of the two, a much better guide than passion,* which has absolutely no bound nor mea- sure, but what is set to it by this self-love, or moral considerations. From the distinction above made between self-love, and the several particular principles or affections in our nature, we may see how good ground there was for that assertion, maintained by the several ancient schools of philosophy against the Epicureans, namely, that virtue is to be pursued as an end, eligible in and for itself. For, if there be any principles or affections in the mind of man distinct from self-love, that the things those principles tend towards, or that the objects of those affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible, to be pursued upon its own account, and to be rested in as an end, is impHed in the very idea of such principle or aflfection.f They indeed asserted much higher things of virtue, and with very good reason ; but to say thus much of it, that it is to be pursued for itself, is to say no more of it, than may truly be said of the object of every natural affection whatever. The question, which was a few years ago disputed in France, concerning the love of God, which was there called enthusiasm, as it will every where by the gener- ality of the world ; this question, I say, answers in religion to that old one in morals now mentioned. And both of them are, I think, fully determined by the same observation, namely, that the very nature of affection, the idea itself, necessarily implies resting in its object as an end. I shall not here add any thing further to what I have said in the two Discourses upon that most nnportant subject, but only this: that if we are constituted such sort of creatures, as from our very nature to feel certain affections or movements of mind, upon the sight or con- templation of the meanest inanimate part of the creation, • p. 44. t p. 106. xxii PREFACE. for the flowers of the field have their beauty; certainly there must be somewhat due to him himself, who is the Author and Cause of all things; who is more intimately present to us than any thing else can be, and with whom we have a nearer and more constant intercourse, than we can have with any creature: there must be some movements of mind and heart which correspond to his perfections, or of which those perfections are the natural object: and that when we are commanded to love the Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our mind, and with all our soul; somewhat more must be meant than merely that we live in hope of rewards or fear of punishments from him; somewhat more than this must be intended: though these regards themselves are most just and reasonable, and absolutely necessary to be often recollected in such a world as this. It may be proper just to advertise the reader, that he is not to look for any particular reason for the choice ot the greatest part of these Discourses ; their being taken from amongst many others, preached in the same place, through a course of eight years, being in great measure accidental. Neither is he to expect to find any other connexion between them, than that uniformity of thought and design, which will always be found in the writings of the same person, when he writes with simplicity and in earnest. stanhope, Sept. 16, 172D. CONTENTS, UPON HUMAN NATURE, OR MAN CONSIDERED AS A MORAL AGENT. Page OERMON I.— UPON THE SOCIAL NATURE OF AL\N ... 25 For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not the same office : so we being many are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another. — Rom. xii. 4, o. 6ERMONS IL III.— UPON THE NATURAL SUPREMACY OF CON- SCIENCE 37, 4? For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not ihe law, are a law to them- selves.— Rom. ii. 14. Skrmon IV.— upon the GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE . . 53 If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth iiij own heart, this man's religion is vain. — Jam. i. 2G. Skr.mons V. VI.— UPON COMPASSION G4, 74 Hejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.— Rom. xii. Ij. Skr.mon VII.— UPON TFIE CIIARACTEIl OF BALAAM ... 82 Xet me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.— Numb, xxiii. 1 0. Sermons VIII. IX.— UPON RESENTMENT, AND FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES 92, 101 Ye have heard that it halh been said, Thou shalt love tliy neighbour, and hate thine enemy: but 1 say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them tliat curse you, do good to them that hale you, and pray for tiiem that despitefuily use you and persecute you. — Mait. v. 43, 44. Skr.mon X.— upon Self-deceit 113 And Nathan said to David, Thou art tlie man. — 2 Sam. xii. 7. Ser.mo.ns XI.XII.— UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR . 125, 140 And if tiiere be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, naniely, Thou shalt love thy neigh'jour as thyself.— Rom. xiii. V. SKn.M.:Ns XIII. XIV.— ( PON I'lETV, OR THE LOVE OF GOD 154, 1G3 Thou shalt love the Lord tl>y God wiih nil thy heart, and with all thy sou], and wiih all ihy mind. — .Matt. x.\ii. :]7. Xxiv CONTENTS. Page Sermon XV.— UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN .... 173 When I applied mine heart to know wisdom, and to see tlie business that is done upon the earth : then I belield all the work of God, that a man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun: because though a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall not find it; yea farther, though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be able to find it. — Eccles. viii. 16, 17. SIX SERMONS PREACHED UPON PUBLIC OCCASIONS. Sermon I.— PREACHED BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR PROPAGATING THE GOSPEL 164 And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world, for a witness unto all naiions. — Matt. xxiv. 14. Sermon H.— PREACHED BEFORE THE LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, AND SHERIFFS, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE SEVERAL HOSPITALS OF THE CITY OF LONDON 197 The rich and poor meet together: the Lord is the maker of them all.— Prov. xxii. 2. Sermon- III.— PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41 ' 211 And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the ser- vants of God. — 1 Pet. ii. 16. Sermon IV.— PREACHED AT THE ANNUAL MEETING OF THE CHARITY CHILDREN AT CHRIST CHURCH .... 225 Train up a child in the way he should go : and when he is old, he will not depart from it. — Prov. xxii. G. Sermox v.— PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS MAJESTY'S ACCESSION TO THE THRONE 241 I exhort, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of tlianks, be made for all men ; for kings, and for all that are in authority ; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in ail god- liness and honesty. — 1 Tim. ii. 1, -2. SfcRMON VI.— PREACHED BEFORE THE GOVERNORS OF THE ION- DON INFIRMARY 250 And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves; for charity shall cover tiie multitude of sins. — I Pet. iv. 8. A CHARGE TO TIIE CI EW.GY OF THE DIOCESE OF DURHAM, 1751 ... . . . . 2CC CORRESPONDENCE liETWEKN 1)R BUTLER AND DR CLARIvE 284 SERMON I, UPON HUMAN NATURE. JFbr as we have many members in one hodij^ and all members have not the same office : so we being many are one body in Christy and every one members one of another. — Rom. xii. 4, 5. The Epistles in the New Testament have all of them a particular reference to the condition and usages of the Christian world at the time they were written. There- fore as they cannot be thoroughly understood, unless that condition and those usages are known and attended to: so further, though they be known, yet if they be dis- continued or changed; exhortations, precepts, and il- lustrations of things, which refer to such circumstances now ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in that manner, and with that force which they were to the primitive Christians. Thus the text now before us, in its first intent and design, relat(^s to the decent manage- ment of those extraordinary gifts wliich were then in the church,* but which are now totally ceased. And even as to the allusion that ice are one body in Ch7^ist; though what the Apostle here intends is equally true of Christians in all circumstances; and the consideration of it is plainly still an additional motive, over and above moral considerations, to the discharge of the several duties and offices of a Christian: yet it is manifest this allusion must have appeared with much greater force to those, who, by the many difficulties they went through for the sake of their religion, were led to keep always in view the relation they stood in to their Saviour, who had undergone the same; to those, who, from the idolatries of all around them, and their ill-treatment, were taught * 1 Cor. xii. 26 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Ser. I. to consider themselves as not of the world in which they lived, but as a distinct society of themselves; with laws and ends, and principles of life and action, quite contrary to those which the world professed themselves at that time influenced by. Hence the relation of a Christian was by them considered as nearer than that of affinity and blood; and they almost literally esteemed themselves as members one of another. It cannot indeed possibly be denied, that our being God's creatures, and virtue being the natural law we are born under, and the whole constitution of man being plainly adapted to it, are prior obligations to piety and virtue, than the consideration that God sent his Son into the world to save it, and the motives which arise from the peculiar relation of Christians, as members one of another under Christ our head. However, though all this be allowed, as it expressly is by the inspired writers; yet it is manifest that Christians at the time of the reve- lation, and immediately after, could not but insist mostly upon considerations of this latter kind. These observations show the original particular refer- ence of the text; and the pecuhar force with which the thing intended by the allusion in it, must have been felt l)y the primitive Christian world. They likewise afford a reason for treating it at this time in a more general way. The relation which the several parts or members of the natural body have to each other and to the whole hody, is here compared to the relation which each par- ticular person in society has to other particular persons and to the whole society; and the latter is intended to be illustrated by the former. And if there be a likeness between these two relations, the consequence is ob- vious: that the latter shows us we were intended to do good to others, as the former shows us that the several members of the natural body were intended to be instru- ments of good to each other and to the whole body. But as there is scarce any ground for a comparison between society and the mere material body, this without the mind being a dead unactive thing; much less can the comparison be carried to any length. And since the apostle speaks of the several members as having distinct Eea. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 27 offices, which impUes the mind ; it cannot be thought an unallowable liberty, instead of the body and its members, to substitute the whole nature of man, and all the variety of internal principles which belong to it. And then the comparison will be between the nature of man as re- specting self, and tending to private good, his own pre- servation and happiness ; and the nature of man as hav- ing respect to society, and tending to promote public good, the happiness of that society. These ends do in- deed perfectly coincide; and to aim at public and private good are so far from being inconsistent, that they mutu- ally promote each other : yet in the following discourse they must be considered as entirely distinct; otherwise the nature of man as tending to one, or as tending to the other, cannot be compared. There can no com- ])arison be made, without considering the things com- paied as distinct and different. From this review and comparison of the nature of man as respecting self, and as respecting society, it will plainly appear, that there are as real and the same kind of indications in human nature, that ice were made for so- ciety and to do good to our fellow creatures; as that we were intended to take care of our own life and health and private good: and that the same objectians lie against one of these assertions, as against the other. For, First, There is a natural principle of benevolence* in * Suppose a man of learning to be wriliiio^ a grave book upon human nature, and to show in several parts of it tliat he hail insight into the subject he was consiiler- iiig ; amongst other things, the following one would require to be nccounteil for ; the appearance of benevolence or good-will in men towards each other in the instances 'of natural relation, and in others.* Cautions of being deceived with outwanl sliow, he retires within himself to see exactly, what that is in the mind of man fronj whence this appearance proceeds ; and, upon ileep reflection, asserts the principle in the mind to be only the love of power, and dt liyht in tlie exercise of it. Would not every botly think here was a mistake of one word for another? that the philosopher was contemplating and accounting for some other hunian acduus, some other b4 ha- viour of man to man? And could any one he thoroughly sjitistieii, tiiat what is com- monly calleil benevolence or g(>0(l will was nally the atbction meant, but only by being made to underst;ind that this l« arn«-il person had a general hypoihesis, to which the appearance of gcMxl-will could no otherwise be reconciled 1* 'i'hat what has thia appearance is often nothing l)ut ambition; thai del ghl in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with benevolence, only niakes it niore specious to call it ambi- tion than hunger, of the two: but in reality that passion does no more amtunt for tlie whole app«-arances of go no otherwise distinguish between objects, than as it is a greater instance and exertioo of power to do good to one rather than to another. Again, suppose good-will in tiie mind of man to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power: men might inilearticular pas>ion or affection, the latter as plainly to the general affection or principle of self love. That there are some particular pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot de- tern, ine how far they are owing to one, anil how far to the otlu r, proceeds from this that tl»e two princi})les are frequently mixed together, and run up into each oUirr. Titis distinction is furdu r explained in the eU'\enlh sermon. f If any desire to see this distinction antl comparison maih' in a particular instance, the appetite and passion now mentioui-d may s»Tve for one. Hunger is to Ix' con- bnler. (I as a private appetite ; bec^iuse the eiul for which it waA given us is the pn's»TViuion of the individiLil. Desire of esteem is a public passion ; becruise the eu»l for which it was given us is U) regnlat*' our l)ehaviour towards sot iely. The resp« ct which this Ims U) private ginxl is as n niole us the respect that has lo public goion enuilation, and whicll the unlawtul on*- envy aims at, is exjicily tiie same ; nantely, that equality or superi- ority: and consequcnily, that to do mischief is not tlu' end of envy, but merely the mcaus it makes use ot to attaui its end. As to reseutujent, see the eighth sermon. Ser. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 35 good and happiness ; as they contradict that parf of it which respects society, and tends to public good: that there are as few persons, who attain the greatest satis- faction and enjoyment which they might attain in the present world; as who do the greatest good to others which they might do; nay, that there are as few who can be said really and in earnest to aim at one, as at the other. Take a survey of mankind: the world in general, the good and bad, almost without exception, equally are agreed, that were religion out of the case, the happiness of the present life would consist in a manner wholly in riches, honours, sensual gratifications ; insomuch that one scarce hears a reflection made upon prudence, life, con- duct, but upon this supposition. Yet on the contrary, that persons in the greatest affluence of fortune are no happier than such as have only a competency ; that the cares and disappointments of ambition for the most part far exceed the satisfactions of it; as also the miserable intervals of intemperance and excess, and the many un- timely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of life .- these things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one ac- knowledged; but are thought no objections against, though they expressly contradict, this universal principle, that the happiness of the present life consists in one or other of them. Whence is all this absurdity and contradiction? Is not the middle way obvious ? Can any thing be more manifest, than that the happiness of life consists in these possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree ; that to pursue them beyond this degree, is always attended with more inconvenience than advantage to a man's scdf, and often with extreme misery and unhappiness. Whence then, I say, is all this absurdity and contradic- tion ? Is it really the result of consideration in man- kind, how they may become most easy to themselves, most free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness attainable in this world ? Or is it not manifestly owing either to this, that they have not cool and reasonable concern enough for themselves to consider wherein their chief happiness in the present life consists ; or else, if they do consider it, that they will not act conformably to what is the result of that consideration: t. e. reasona- c2 36 UPON HUMAN NATURE. pSo. I. ble concern for themselves, or cool self-love is prevailed over by passion and appetite. So that from what appears, there is no ground to assert that those princi- ples in the nature of man, which most directly lead to promote the g(.od of our fellow creatures, are more generally or in a greater degree violated, than those, which most directly lead us to promote our own private good and happiness. The sum of the whole is plainly this. The nature of man, considered in his single capacity, and with respect only to the present world, is adapted and leads him to attain the greatest happiness he can for himself in the present world. The nature of man, considered in his public or social Capacity, leads him to a right behaviour in society to diat course of hfe which we call virtue.. Men follow or obey their nature in both these capacities and respects to a '^ertain degree, but not entirely : their actions do not come up to the whole of w^hat their nature leads them to in either of these capacities or respects: and th-^y often violate their nature in both, 2. e. as they neghxt the duties they owe to their fellow creatures, to which their nature leads them ; and are injurious, to which their nature is abhorrent; so there is a manifest negligence in men of their real happiness or interest in the present world, when that interest is inconsistent with a present gratification ; for the sake of which they negligently, nay, even knowingly, are the authors and instruments of their own misery and ruin. Thus they are as often unjust to themselves as to others, and for the most part are equally so to both by the same actions. Sbs IL] UPON HUMAN NATURE, 37 SERMON II. IIL aPON HUMAN NATURE. Tor when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves. — Rom. ii. 14. As speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof, so likewise moral obligations may be shown by different methods. If the real nature of any creature leads him and is adapted to such and such purposes only, or more than to any other; this is a reason to believe the author of that nature intended it for those purposes. Thus there is no doubt the eye was intended for us to see with. And the more complex any constitution is, and the greater variety of parts there are which thus tend to some one end, the stronger is the proof that such end was designed. However, when the inward frame of man is considered as any guide in morals, the utmost caution must be used that none make peculiarities in their own temper, or any thing which is the effect of particular customs, though observable in several, the standard of what is common to the species; and above all, that the highest principle be not forgot or exchided, that to which belongs the adjustment and correction of all other inward movements and affections: which principle will of course have some inflaence, but which being in nature supreme, as shall now be shown, ought to preside over and govern all the rest. The difficulty of rightly observing the two former cautions; the appearance there is of some small diversity amongst mankind with respect to this faculty, with respect to their natural sense of moral good and evil; and the attention necessary to survey with any exactness what passes within, have occasioned that it is not so much agreed what is the standard of the internal nature of man, as of his external form. Neither is this last exactly settk d. Yet we understand one another when we speak of the shape of a human body: so like- wise we do when we speak of the heart and inward 38 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Ser. II. principles, how far soever the standard is from being exact or precisely fixed. There is therefore ground for an attempt of showing men to themselves, of showing them what course of life and behaviour their real nature points out and would lead them to. Now obligations of virtue shown, and motives to the practice of it enforced, from a review of the nature of man, are to be considered as an appeal to each particular person's heart and natural conscience: as the external senses are appealed to for the proof of things cognizable by them. Since then our inward feelings, and the perceptions we receive from our external senses, are equally real; to argue from the for- mer to life and conduct is as little liable to exception, as to argue from the latter to absolute speculative truth. A man can as little doubt whether his eyes were given him to see with, as he can doubt of the truth of the science of optics^ deduced from ocular experiments. And allowing the inward feeling, shame; a man can as little doubt whether it was given him to prevent his doing shameful actions, as he can doubt whether his eyes were given him to guide his steps. And as to these in- ward feelings themselves; that they are real, that man has in his nature passions and affections, can no more be questioned, than that he has external senses. Neither can the former be wholly mistaken; though to a certain degree liable to greater mistakes than the latter. There can be no doubt but that several propensions or instincts, several principles in the heart of man, carry him to society, and to contribute to the happiness of it, in a sense and a manner in which no inward principle leads him to evil. These principles, propensions, or in- stincts which lead him to do good, are approved of by a certain faculty within, quite distinct from these propen- sions themselves. All this hath been fully made out in the foregoing discourse. But it may be said, " What is all this, though true, to the purpose of virtue and religion these require, not only that we do good to others when we are led this way, by benevolence or reflection, happening to be stronger than other principles, passions, or appetites; but likewise that the wJiolc character be formed upon SfiR. IT.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 39 thought and reflection ; that every action be directed by some determinate rule, some other rule than the strength and prevalency of any principle or passion. What sign is there in our nature (for the inquiry is only about what is to be collected from thence) that this was intended by its Author.^ Or how does so various and fickle a temper as that of man appear adapted thereto? It may indeed be absurd and unnatural for men to act without any re- ':flection; nay, without regard to that particular kind of reflection which you call conscience; because this does belong to our nature. For as there never was a man but who approved one place, prospect, building, before another: so it does not appear that there ever was a man who would not have approved an action of humanity rather than of cruelty; interest and passion being quite out of the case. But interest and passion do come in, and are often too strong for and prevail over reflection and conscience. Now as brutes have various instincts, by which they are carried on to the end the Author of their nature intended them for: is not man in the same condition; with this diflerence only, that to his instincts (i. e. appetites and passions) is added the principle of reflection or consciences^ And as brutes act agreeably to their nature, in following that principle or particular instinct which for the present is strongest in them: does not man likewise act agreeably to his nature, or obey the law of his creation, by following that principle, be it pas- sion or conscience, which for the present happens to be strongest in him.^ Thus diff*erent men are by their par- ticular nature hurried on to pursue honour, or riches, or pleasure: there are also persons whose temper leads them in an uncommon degree to kindness, compassion, doing good to their f How creatures: as there are others who are given to suspend their judgment, to weigh and consider things, and to act upon thought and reflection. Let every one tlien quietly follow his nature; as passion, reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, happen to be strongest: but let not the man of virtue take upon him to blame the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute; since these equally with him obey and follow tlu ir nature. Thus, as in some cases we follow our nature in doing 40 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [(^^r, H. / the works contained in the law, so in other cases we fol- low nature in doing contrary." Now all this licentious talk entirel}^ goes upon a sup- position, that men follow their nature in the same sense, in violating the known rules of justice and honesty for the sake of a present gratification, as they do in following those rules when they have no temptation to the contrary. And if this w^ere true, that could not be so which St Paul asserts, that men are hy nature a law to tJiemselves. If by following nature w^ere meant only acting as we please, it would indeed be ridiculous to speak of nature as . any guide in morals: nay the very mention of deviating from nature would be absurd; and the mention of following it, when spoken by way of distinction, would absolutely have no meaning. For did ever any one act otherwise than as he pleased? And yet the ancients speak of deviating from nature as vice; and of following nature so much as a distinction, that according to them the per- fection of virtue consists therein. So that language itself should teach people another sense to the words following nature, than barely acting as we please. Let it howevc r be observed, that though the words human nature are to be explained, yet the real question of this discourse is not concerning the meaning of words, any other than as the explanation of them may be needful to make out and explain the assertion, that every man is naturally a law to himself] that every one may find within himself the rule of right, and obligations to follow it. This St Paul afRrnis in the words of the text, and this the foregoing objection really denies by seeming to allow it. And the objection will be fully answered, and the text before us explained, by observing that nature is considered in different views, and the word used in different senses; and by showing in what view it is considered, and in what sense the word is used, when intended to express and signify that which is the guide of life, that by which men are a law to themselves. I say, the explanation of the term will be sufficient, because from thence it will appear, that in some senses of the word nature cannot be, but that in another sense it manifestly is, a law to us. I. By nature is often meant no more than some prin- Skb. II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 41 ciple in man, without regard either to the kind or degree of it. Thus the passion of anger, and the affection of parents to their children, would be called equdiily natural. And as the same person hath often contrary principles, which at the same time draw contrary ways, he may by the same action both follow and contradict his nature in this sense of the word; he may follow one passion and contradict another. II. Nature is frequently spoken of as consisting in those passions which are strongest, and most influence the actions; which being vicious ones, mankind is in this sense naturally vicious, or vicious by nature. Thus St Paul says of the Gentiles, who were dead in trespasses and sinSy and walked according to the spirit of disobedience y. tJiat they were by nature the children of wrath* They could be no otherwise children of wrath by nature, thaa they were vicious by nature. Here then are two different senses of the word nature, in neither of which men can at all be said to be a law to themselves. They are mentioned only to be excluded; to prevent their being confounded, as the latter is in thf^ objection, with another sense of it, which is now to be inquired after and explained. III. The apostle asserts, that the Gentiles do by na- ture the things contained in the lav). Nature is indeed here put by way of distinction from revelation, but yet it is not a mere negative. He intends to express more than that by which they did not^ that by which they did the works of the law; namely, by nature. It is plain the meaning of the word is not the same in this passage as in the former, where it is spoken of as evil; for in this latter it is spoken of as good; as that bv which they acted, or might have acted virtuously. What that is in man by which he is naturally a law to himself is ex- plained in the following words: Which shew the tvork of the law written in their hearts, their consciences also bear- ing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or else excusing one another. If there be a distinction to be nifide between the works written in their hearts, and the Witness of conscience; by the former must be meant the * Kphrs. ii. 42 UPON HUMAN NA'i Ui. [Ser. II natural disposition to kindness and compassion, to do what is of good report, to which this apostle often refers: that part of the nature of man, treated of in the foregoing discourse, which with very Uttie reflection and of course leads him to society, and by means of which he naturally acts a just and good part in it, unless other passions or interests lead him astray. Yet since other passions, and regards to private interest, which lead us (though in- directly, yet they lead us) astray, are themselves in a degree equally natural, and often most prevalent; and since we have no method of seeing the particular de- grees in which one or the other is placed in us by nature; it is plain the former, considered merely as natural, good and right as they are, can no more be a law to us than the latter. But there is a superior prin- ciple of reflection or conscience in every man, which distinguishes between the internal principles of his heart, as well as his external actions: which passes judgment upon himself and them; pronounces determinately some actions to be in themselves just, right, good; others to be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust : which, without being consulted, without being advised with, magiste- rially exerts itself, and approves or condemns him the doer of them accordingly : and which, if not forcibly stopped, naturally and always of course goes on to an- ticipate a higher and more effectual sentence, which shall hereafter second and affirm its own. But this part of the office of conscience is beyond my present design explicitly to consider. It is by this faculty, natural to man, that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to him- self : but this faculty, I say, not to be considered merely as a principle in his heart, which is to have some in- fluence as well as others ; but considered as a faculty in kind and in nature supreme over all others, and which bears its own authority of being so. This 'prerogative, this natural supremacy, of the faculty which surveys, approves or disapproves the several affec- tions of our mind and actions of our lives, being that by which men are a lav) to themselves, their conformity or disobedience to which law of our nature renders their actions, in the highest and most proper sense, natural or Skb.!!.] upon human NATURE. 43 unnatural; it is fit it be further explained to you: and I hope it will be so, if you will attend to the following reflections. Man may act according to that principle or inclina- tion which for the present happens to be strongest, and yet act in a way disproportionate to, and violate his real proper nature. Suppose a brute creature by any bait to be allured into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He plainly followed the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify his appetite: there is an entire correspondence between his whole nature and such an action: such ■action therefore is natural. But suppose a man, fore- seeing the same danger of certain ruin, should rush into it for the sake of a present gratification; he in this in- stance would follow his strongest desire, as did the brute creature: but there would be as manifest a disproportion, between the nature of a man and such an action, as between the meanest w^ork of art and the skill of the greatest master in that art: which disproportion arises, not from considering the action singly in itself, or in its consequences ; but from comparison of it with the nature of the agent. And since such an action is utterly dis- proportionate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest and most proper sense unnatural; this word expressing that disproportion. Therefore instead of the words dis- proportionate to his nature, the word unnatural may now •be ])ut; this being more familiar to us: but let it be observed, that it stands for the same thing precisely. Now what is it which renders such a rash action unnatural? Is it that he went against the principle of reasonable and cool self-love, considered merely as a part of his nature? No: for if he had acted the con- trary way, he would equally have gone against a princi- •pie, or part of hi<; nature, namely, passion or appetite. But to deny a present ap])etite, from foresight that the gratification of it would end in immediate ruin or extreme misery, is by no means an unnatural action; whereas to contradict or go against cool self-love for tlie sake of such gratification, is so in the instance before us. Such an action then being unnatural; and its being so not arising from a man's going against a principle or desire 44 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Ser. 11. barely, nor in going against that principle or desire which happens for the present to be strongest; it necessarily follows, that there must be some other difference or distinction to be made between these two principles, passion and cool self-love, than what I have yet taken notice of. And this difference, not being a difference in strength or degree, I call a difference in nature and in kind. And since, in the instance still before us, if pas- sion prevails over self-love, the consequent action is unnatural ; but if self-love prevails over passion, the ac- tion is natural; it is manifest that self-love is in human nature a superior principle to passion. This may be contradicted without violating that nature ; but the for- mer cannot. So that, if we will act conformably to the economy of man's nature, reasonable self-love must govern. Thus, without particular consideration of con- science, we may have a clear conception of the superior nature of one inward principle to another; and see that there really is this natural superiority, quite distinct from degrees of strength and prevalency. Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as con- sisting partly of various appetites, passions, affections, and partly of the principle of reflection or conscience; leaving quite out all consideration of the different degrees of strength, in which either of them prevail, and it will further appear that there is this natural superiority of one inward principle to another, and that it is even part of the idea of reflection or conscience. Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency towards such and such objects, without distinction of the means by which they are to be obtained. Consequently it will often happen there will be a desire of particular objects, in cases where they cannot be obtained without manifest injury to others. Reflection or conscience comes in, and disapproves the pursuit of them in these circum- stances; but the desire remains. Which is to be obeyed, appetite or reflection ? Cannot this question be answered, from the economy and constitution of human nature mere- ly, without saying which is strongest.^ Or need this at all come into consideration. ^ Would not the question be intelliyihly and fully answered by saying, that the prin- Sbb. II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. ^5 ciple of reflection or conscience being compared with the various appetites, passions, and affections in men, the former is manifestly superior and chief, vathout le- gard to strength? And how often soever the latter happens to prevail, it is mere usurpation: the former re- mains in nature and in kind its superior; and every instance of such prevalence of the latter is an instance of breaking in upon and violation of the constitution of man. All this is no more than the distinction, which every- body is acquainted with, between mere power and autho- rity: only instead of being intended to express the dif- ference betw^een what is possible, and what is lawful in civil government ; here it has been shown applicable to the several principles in the mind of man. Thus that principle, by which w^e survey, and either approve or disapprove our own heart, temper, and actions, is not only to be considered as what is in its turn to have some influence; which may be said of every passion, of the lowest appetites: but likewise as being superior; as from its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all others; insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direc- tion, superintendency. This is a constituent part of the idea, that is, of the faculty itself: and, to preside and go- vern, from the very economy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had it strength, as it had right: had it power, as it had manifest authority, it w^ould absolutely govern the w^orld. This gives us a further view of the nature of man ; shows us what course of life we were made for: not only that our real nature leads us to be influenced in some degree by reflection and conscience; but likewise in what degree we are to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with, and act agreeably to the constitution of our nature: that this faculty was placed within to be our proper governor; to direct and regulate all under principles, passions, and motives of action. This is its right and office: thus sacred is its authority. And how often soever men violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for sup- posed interest which they cannot otherwise obtain, or 40 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Ser. II. for the sake of passion which they cannot otherwise gratify ; this makes no alteration as to the natural right and office of conscience. Let us now turn this whole matter another way, and suppose there was no such thing at all as this natural supremacy of conscience; that there was no distinction to be made between one inward principle and another, but only that of strength; and see what would be the consequence. Consider then what is the latitude and compass of Che actions of man with regard to himself, his fellow crea- tures, and the Supreme Being. ^ What are their bounds, besides that of our natural power? With respect to the two first, they are plainly no other than these ; no man seeks misery as such for himself; and no one unprovoked does mischief to another for its own sake. For in every degree within these bounds, mankind knowingly from passion or wantonness bring ruin and misery upon them- selves and others. And impiety and profaneness, I mean, what everv one would call so who believes the being of God, have absolutely no bounds at all. Men blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in words renounce their allegiance to their Creator. Put an in- stance then with respect to any one of these three. Though we should suppose profane swearing, and in general that kind of impiety now mentioned, to mean nothing, yet it implies wanton disregard and irreverence towards an infinite Being, our Creator; and is this as suitable to the nature of man, as reverence and dutiful submission of heart towards that Almighty Being. ^ Or suppose a man guilty of parricide, with all the circum- stances of cruelty which such an action can admit of. This action is done in consequence of its principle being for the present strongest: and if there be no difference between inward principles, but only that of strength; the strength being given, you have the whole nature of the man given, so far as it relates to this matter. The ac- tion plainly corresponds to the principle, the principle being in that degree of strength it was: it therefore cor- responds to the whole nature of the man. Upon com- paring the action and the whole nature, there arises no Sia. III.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 47 disproportion, there appears no unsuitableness bet^^een them. Thus the murder of a father and the nature of man correspond to each other, as the same nature and an act of filial duty. If there be no difference between inward principles, but only that of strength; we can make no distinction between these two actions, con- sidered as the actions of such a creature; but in our coolest hours must approve or disapprove them equally: than which nothing can be reduced to a greater absurd- ity. SERMON III. The natural supremacy of reflection or conscience being thus established; we may from it form a distinct notion of what is meant by human nature^ when virtue is said to consist in following it, and vice in deviating from it. As the idea of a civil constitution implies in it united strength, various subordinations, under one direction, that of the supreme authority ; tlie different strength of each particular member of the society not coming into the idea ; whereas, if you leave out the subordination, the union, and the one direction, you destroy and lose it: so reason, several appetites, passions, and affections^ prevailing in different degrees of strength, is not that idea or notion oi human nature; but that nature consists in these several principles considered as having a natural respect to each other, in the several passions beinir naturally subordinate to the one superior principle ol reflection or conscience. Every bias, instinct, propen- sion within, is a natural part of our nature, but not the whol': add to these the superior facultv, whose office it is to adjust, manage, and preside over them, and take in this its natural superiority, and you complete the idea of human nature. And as in civil government the co?i- stitution is broken in upon, and violated by j)ower and strength prevailing over authority ; so the constitution of man is broken in upon and violated by the lower faculties or princi|)lcs within prevailing over that which is in its nature supreme over them all. Thus, when it is said by ancient writers, that tortures and death are not 48 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Skr. III. SO contrary to human nature as injustice ; by this to tyi sure is not meant, that the aversion to the former in mankind is less strong and prevalent than their aversion to the latter : but that the former is only contrary to our nature considered in a partial view, and which takes in only the lowest part of it, that which we have in com- mon with the brutes ; whereas the latter is contrary to our nature, considered in a higher sense, as a system and constitution contrarv to the whole economv of man.* And from all these things put together, nothing can be more evident, than that, exclusive of revelation, man cannot be considered as a creature left by his Maker to act at random, and live at large up to the extent of his natural power, as passion, humour, wilfulness, happen to carry him ; which is the condition brute creatures are in : but that from his make, constitution, or nature^ he is in the strictest and most proper sense a law to him- self. He hath the rule of right within: what is wanting is only that he honestly attend to it. The inquiries which have been made by men of lei- * Every man in his pliysical nature is one individual sing-le aj^pnt. He has like- wise pn)p«'rties and principles, each of wiiich may be considered separately, and without reg ard to the n spects which they have to each other. Neither of these are the nature we are takiujf a view of. But it is the inward frame of man considered as a system or constitution : whose several parts are miited, not by a physicrd princi- ple ot individual ion, but by the respects they liave to each other ; the cliief of wliich is the subjection whicii the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the one supreiur principle of nflection or conscience. The system or constitution is form^ii by anil consists in these respects and this subjection. Thus the body is a system or constitution : so is a tree : so is every machine. Consider all the several parts of a tree witliout the natural respects they have to each other, and you have not at all the idea of a free; but add these respects, and this gives you the idea. TIk- body may be impaired l)y sickness, a tree may decay, a machine be out of order, atid yet the system and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is plainly soinrwhiit wmch answers to all this in the moral constitution of man. Whoever \.vill consider his own natur*', will see that the several appetites, passions, and particular alfrdions, iiave dilierent res{>ects amongst themselves. They are restraints upon, and are in a proportion to each other. This proportion is just and perfect, when all those under principles nre perfectly coincident with conscience, so far as their nature permits, and in all cuses under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess or defect, ttie least alteration of the due [)roportions amongst themselves, or of their couicidence with co;. science, tliough not proc( etiing into action, is some di gree of disorder in the moral constitution. But jjerfection, though plainly intelligible alW unsiipposable, was never HtUiined by any man. If the higher principle of reflection maintains its phice. a;id as much as it l an corrects that disorder, and hinders it from breaking out into action, this is all that can be expected from such a creature as man. And tiioiigli the appetites and passions have not their exact dtie proportion to each other; tliough they often strive fo. mastery with judgment or reflection : yet, since U)e superiority of this })rinc:iple lo all others is I lie chief resp( ct which forms the constitution, so far as this superiuriiy is maintained, tlie character, the man, is good, worlliy, virtuous. SO.IIT.J UPON HUMAN NATURE. 49 sure after some general rule, the conformity to, or dis- agreement from which, should denominate our actions good or evil, are in many respects of great service. Yet let any plain honest man, before he engages in any course of action, ask himself, Is this I am going about right, or is it wrong ? Is it good, or is it evil ? I do not in the least doubt, but that this question would be answered agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any fair man in almost any circumstance. Neither do there appear any cases which look hke exceptions to this; but those of superstition, and of partiahty to ourselves. Superstition may perhaps be somewhat of an excep- tion: but partiality to ourselves is not; this being itself dishonesty. For a man to judge that to be the equita- ble, the moderate, the right part for him to act, which he would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in another; this is plain vice, and can proceed only from great un- fairness of mind. But allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within himself, yet it may be asked, What obligations are we under to attend to and follow it.^" I answer: it has been proved that man by his nature is a law to himself, without the particuhir distinct consideration of the posi- tive sanctions of that law ; the rewards and punishments Avhich we feel, and those which from the light of reason we have ground to believe, are annexed to it. The question then carries its own answer along with it. Your obligation to obey this law, is its being the law of your nature. That your conscience approves of and attests to such a course of action, is itself alone an obli- gation. Conscience does not only offer itself to show us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own authority with it, that it is our natural guide ; the guide assigned us by the Author of our nature: it there- fore belongs to our condition of being, it is our duty lo walk in that path, and follow this guide, without looking about to see whether wc may not possibly forsake them with impunity. However, let us hear what is to be said against ()])oy- ing this law of our nature. And the smn is no more than this. "Why shoujd wc be concerned about any D 50 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Ser. III. . thing out of and beyond ourselves ? If we do find with- in ourselves regards to others, and restraints of we know not how many different kinds; yet these being embar- rassments, and hindering us from going the nearest way to our own good, why should we not endeavour to sup- press and get over them?" Thus people go on with words, which, when applied to human nature, and the condition in which it is placed in this world, have really no meaning. For does not all this kind of talk go upon supposition, that our hap- piness in this world consists in somewhat quite distinct from regard to others ; and that it is the privilege of vice to be without restraint or confinement ? Whereas, on the contrary, the enjoyments, in a manner all the com- mon enjoyments of life, even the pleasures of vice, de- pend upon these regards of one kind or another to our fellow creatures. Throw off all regards to others, and we should be quite indifferent to infamy and to honour; there could be no such thing at all as ambition; and scarce any such thing as covetousness ; for we should likewise be equally indifferent to the disgrace of poverty, the several neglects and kinds of contempt which accom- pany this state ; and to the reputation of riches, the re- gard and respect they usually procure. Neither is re- straint by any means peculiar to one course of life : but our very nature, exclusive of conscience and our condi- tion, lays us under an absolute necessity of it. We can- not gain any end whatever without being confined to the proper means, which is often the most painful and un- easy confinement. And in numberless instances a pre- sent appetite cannot be gratified without such apparent and immediate ruin and misery, that the most dissolute man in the world chooses to forego the pleasure, rather than endure the pain. Is the meaning then, to indulge those regards to our fellow creatures, and submit to those restraints, which upon the whole are attended with more satisfaction than uneasiness, and get over only those which bring more uneasiness and inconvenience than satisfaction? Doubt- less this was our meaning." You have changed sides then. Keep to this ; be consistent with yourselves; and gjR^IlI.-j UPON HUMAN NATURE. 51 you and the men of virtue are in general perfectly agreed. Bat let us take care and avoid mistakes. Let it not te taken for granted that the temper of envy, rage, resent- ment, yields greater delight than meekness, forgiveness, compassion, and good-will: especially when it is acknow- ledged that rage, envy, resentment, are in themselves mere misery; and the satisfaction arising from the indul- gence of them is little more than relief from that misery; whereas the temper of compassion and benevolence is itself delightful ; and the indulgence of it, by do- ing good, affords new positive delight and enjoyment. Let it not be taken for granted, that the satisfaction aris- ing from the reputation of riches and power, however obtained, and from the respect paid to them, is greater than the satisfaction arising from the reputation of jus- tice, honesty, charity, and the esteem which is universally acknowledged to be their due. And if it be doubtful which of these satisfactions is the greatest, as there are persons who think neither of them very considerable, yet there can be no doubt concerning ambition and covetousness, virtue and a good mind, considered in themselves, and as leading to different courses of life; there can, I say, be no doubt, which temper and which course is attended with most peace and tranquilhty of mind, which with most perplexity, vexation, and incon- venience. And both the virtues and vices which have been now mentioned, do in a manner equally imply in tliem regards of one kind or another to our fellow crea- tures. And with respect to restraint and confinement: whoever will consider the restraints from fear and shame, the dissimulation, mean arts of concealment, servile compliances, one or other of which belong to almost every course of vice, will soon be convinced that the man of virtue is by no means upon a disadvantage in this re- spect. How many instances are there in which men feel and own and cry aloud under the chains of vice with which they are enthralled, and which yet they will not shake off! How many instances, in which persons manifestly go through more pains and self-denial to gratify a vicious passion, than would have been neces- sary to the concjuest of it! To this is to be added, that D8 52 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [s^. ni. when virtue is become habitual, when the temper of it is acquired, what was before confinement ceases to be so, by becoming choice and delight. Whatever re- straint and guard upon ourselves may be needful to unlearn any unnatural distortion or odd gesture; yet, in all propriety of speech, natural behaviour must be the most easy and unrestrained. It is manifest that, in the common course of life, there is seldom any incon- sistency between our duty and what is called interest: it is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency between duty and what is really our present interest; meaning by interest, happiness and satisfaction. Self-love then, though confined to the interest of the present world, does in general perfectly coincide with virtue; and leads us to one and the same course of life. But, whatever exceptions there are to this, which are much fewer than they are commonly thought, all shall be set right at the final distribution of things. It is a manifest absurdity to suppose evil prevailing finally over good, under the conduct and administration of a perfect mind. The whole argument, which I have been now insist- ing upon, may be thus summed up, and given you in one view. The nature of man, is adapted to some course of action or other. Upon comparing some actions with this nature, they appear suitable and correspondent to it: from comparison of other actions with the same na- ture, there arises to our view some unsuitableness or disproportion. The correspondence of actions to the nature of the agent renders them natural: their dispro- portion to it, unnatural. That an action is correspon- dent to the nature of the agent, does not arise from its being agreeable to the principle which happens to be the strongest: for it may be so, and yet be quite dispro- portionate to the nature of the agent. The correspon- dence therefore, or disproportion, arises from somewhat else. This can be nothing but a difference in nature and kind, altogether distinct from strength, between the inward principles. Some then are in nature and kind superior to others. And the correspondence arises from the action being conformable to the higher principle; and the unsuitableness from its being contrary to it. Se2i. IV.] UPON THE GOVERNMENT, ETC. 53 Reasonable self-love and conscience are the chief or superior principles in the nature of man: because an action may be suitable to this nature, though all other principles be violated; but becomes unsuitable, if either of those are. Conscience and self-love, if we understand our true happiness, always lead us the same way. Duty and interest are perfectly coincident: for the most part in this world, but entirely and in every instance if we take in the future, and the whole ; this being implied in the notion of a good and perfect administration of things. Thus they who have been so wise in their generation as to regard only their own supposed interest, at the ex- pense and to the injury of others, shall at last find, that he who has given up all the advantages of the present world, rather than violate his conscience and the rela- tions of hfe, has infinitely better provided for himself, and secured his own interest and happiness. SERMON IV. UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. If any man among you scrm to he rdujidLS, and hridleth not his tonr/ur, but dccciveth his own hearty this mans religion is vaiiu — James i. 26. The translation of this text would be more determinate by being more Hteral, thus: Ifaiuj man amoncj you sremefh to he reh'yiouSy not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his oirn heart, this man9> religion is vain. This determines, that the words, but deceiveth his oirn heart, arc not put in op- position to, seemeth to be religious, but to, bridlcth not his tongue. The certain determinate meaning of the text then being, that he who seemi th to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but in that particular deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain; we may ob- serve somewhat very forcible and expressive in these words of St James. As if the apostle had said. No man surely can make any pretences to religion, who does not at least believe that'he bridlcth his tongue: if he puts on 54 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [Seb. IV. any appearance or face of religion, and yet does not govern his tongue, he must surely deceive himself in that particular, and think he does: and whoever is so unhappy as to deceive himself in this, to imagine he keeps that unruly faculty in due subjection, when indeed he does not, whatever the other part of his life be, his religion is vain; the government of the tongue being a most material restraint which virtue lays us under: with- out it no man can be truly religious. In treating upon this subject, I will consider. First, What is the general vice or fault here referred to : or what disposition in men is supposed in moral re- flections and precepts concerning bridling the tongue. Secondly, When it may be said of any one, that he has a due government over himself in this respect. I. Now the fault referred to, and the disposition sup- posed, in precepts and reflections concerning the govern- ment of the tongue, is not evil-speaking from malice, nor lying or bearing false witness from indirect selfish designs. The disposition to these, and the actual vices themselves, all come under other subjects. The tongue may be employed about, and mad# to serve all the pur- poses of vice, in tempting and deceiving, in perjury and injustice. But the thing here supposed and referred to, is talkativeness: a disposition to be talking, abstracted from the consideration of what is to be said; with very little or no regard to, or thought of doing, either good or harm. And let not any imagine this to be a slight matter, and that it deserves not to have so great weight laid upon it; till he has considered, what evil is implied in it, and the bad effects which follow from it. It is perhaps true, that they who are addicted to this folly would choose to confine themselves to trifles and indif- ferent subjects, and so intend only to be guilty of being impertinent: but as they cannot go on for ever talking of nothing, as common matters will not afford a sufficient fund for perpetual continued discourse: when subjects of this kind are exhausted, they will go on to defamation, scandal, divulging of secrets, their own secrets as well as those of rthers, any thing rather than be silent. They are plainly hurried on in the lieat^ of their talk to say 1 SsB. IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 55 quite different things from what they first intended, and which they afterwards wish unsaid: or improper things, which they had no end in saying, but only to afford em- ployment to their tongue. And if these people expect to be heard and regarded, for there are some content merely with talking, they will invent to engage your at- tention: and, when they have heard the least imperfect hint of an affair, they will out of their own head add the circumstances of time and place, and other matters to make out their story, and give the appearance of proba- bility to it : not that they have any concern about being believed, otherwise than as a means of being heard. The thing is, to engage your attention; to take you up wholly for the present time: what reflections will be made after- w^ards, is in truth the least of their thoughts. And further, when persons, who indulge themselves in these liberties of the tongue, are in any degree offended with another, as little disgusts and misunderstandings will be, they allow themselves to defame and revile such a one with- out any moderation or bounds ; though the offence is so very slight, that they themselves would not do, nor per- haps wish him an injury in any other way. And in this case the scandal and revilings are chiefly owing to talka- tiveness, and not bridhng their tongue ; and so come under our present subject. The least occasion in the world will make the humour break out in this particular way, or in another. It is Hke a torrent, which must and will flow ; but the least thing imaginable will first of all give it either this or another direction, turn it into this or that channel : or like a fire ; the nature of which, when in a heap of combustible matter, is to spread and lay waste all around ; but any one of a thousand little accidents will occasion it to break out first ci'iher in this or another particular part. The subject then before us, though it does run up into, and can scarce be treated as entirely distinct from all others; yet it needs not to be so much mixed or blended with them as it often is. Every faculty and power may be used as the instrument of ])remeditate(l vice and wickedness, merely as the most j)ropiM* and effectual means of executing such designs. But if a man, from 56 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [Ser. IT deep malice and desire of revenge, should meditate a falsehood with a settled design to ruin his neighbour's reputation, and should with great coolness and delibera- tion spread it; nobody would choose to say of such a one, that he had no government of his tongue. A man may use the faculty of speech as an instrument of false witness, who yet has so entire a command over that faculty, as never to speak but from forethought and cool design. Here the crime is injustice and perjury: and, strictly speaking, no more belongs to the present subject, than perjury and injustice in any other way. But there is such a thing as a disposition to be talking for its own sake ; from which persons often say any thing, good or bad, of others, merely as a subject of discourse, accord- ing to the particular temper they themselves happen to^ be in, and to pass away the present time. There is like- wise to be observed in persons such a strong and eager • desire of engaging attention to what they say, that they will speak good or evil, truth or otherwise, merely as- one or the other seems to be most hearkened to : and ' this, though it is sometimes joined, is not the same with^ the dt sire of being thought important and men of conse- qu( nee. There is in some such a disposition to be talk- ing, that an offence of the slightest kind, and such as would not raise any other resentment, yet raises, if I may so speak, the resentment of the tongue, puts it into - a flame, into the most ungovernable motions. This out- rage, when the person it respects is present, 'we dis- tinguish in the lower rank of people by a peculiar term : and let it be observed, that though the decencies of behaviour are a little kept, the same outrage and viru- lence, indulged when he is absent, is an offence of the same kind. But not to distinguish any farther in this manner: men run into faults and follies, which cannot so properly be referred to any one general head as this, that they have not a due government over their tongue. And this unrestrained volubility and wantonness of speech is the occasion of numberless evils and vexations in life. It begets resentment in him who is the subject of it; sows the seed of strife and dissension amongst others: and inflames little disg'usts and offences, which. Skr. IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 57 if let alone would wear away of themselves: it is often of as bad effect upon the good name of others, as deep envy or malice : and, to say the least of it in this respect, it destroys and perverts a certain equity of the utmost im- portance to society to be observed; namely, that praise and dispraise, a good or bad character, should always be bestowed according to desert. The tongue used in such a licentious manner is like a sword in the hand of a madman; it is employed at random, it can scarce pos- sibly do any good, and for the most part does a world of mischief; and implies not only great folly and a trifling spirit, but great viciousness of mind, great indifference to truth and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare, and good of others. So much reason is there for what St James says of the tongue.* It is a fire, a world of ini- quity^ it defileth the whole body, setteth on fire the course of nature, and is itself set on fire of hell. This is the faculty or disposition which we are required to keep a guard upon : these are the vices and follies it runs into, when not kept under due restraint. II. Wherein the due government of the tongue con- sists, or when it may be said of any one in a moral and religious sense that he hridleth his tongue, I come now to consider. The due and proper use of any natural faculty or power, is to be judged of by the end and design for which it was given us. The chief purpose, for which the liiculty of speech was given to man, is plainly that we might communicate our thoughts to each other, in order to carry on the affairs of the world; for business, and for our improvement in knowledge and learning. But the good Author of our nature designed us not only neces- saries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that being he hath graciously given, and in that condition ot life he hath placed us in. There are secondary uses ot our faculties: they administer to delight, as well as to necessity: and as they are equally adapted to both, there is no doubt but he intended them for our gratification, as well as for the support and continuance of our beings The secondary use of speech is to please and be enter- • Clinp. iii. vrr. G. 58 UPON THE GOVERNMENT lSer. IV. taining to each other in conversation. This is in every respect allowable and right: it unites men closer in alliances and friendships ; gives us a fellow feeling of the prosperity and unhappiness of each other; and is in seve- ral respects serviceable to virtue, and to promote good behaviour in the world. And provided there be not too much time spent in it, if it were considered only in the way of gratification and delight, men must have strange notions of God and of religion, to think that he can be offended with it, or that it is any way inconsistent with the strictest virtue. But the truth is, such sort of con- versation, though it ^as no particular good tendency, yet it has a general good one: it is social and friendly, and tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and civility. As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech, relates to the one or other of these; either to business, or to conversation. As to the former; deceit in the management of bu.-iness and affairs does not properly belong to the subject now before us: though one may Just mention that multitude, that endless number of words, with which business is perplexed; when a much fewer would, as it should seem, better serve the purpose: but this must be left to those who understand the matter. The government of the tongue, considered as a subject of itself, relates chiefly to conversation ; to that kind of discourse which usually fills up the time spent in friendly meetings, and visits of civility. And the danger is, lest persons entertain themselves and others at the expense of their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or off nee of their neighbour. If they will observe and keep clear of these, they may be as free, and easy, and unre- served, as they can desire. The cautions to be given for avoiding these dangers, and to render conversation innocent and agreeable, fall under the following particulars: silence; talking of in- different things; and which makes up too great a part of conversation, giving of characters, speaking well or evil of others. The Wise Man observes, that there is a time to speak, ■{fiid a time to keep silence. One meets with people in llie world, who seem never to have made the last of these 5Ea. IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 59 observations. And yet these great talkers do not at all speak from their having any thing to say, as every sen- tence shows, but only from their inclination to be talking. Their conversation is merelv an exercise of the tongue: no other human faculty has any share in it. It is strange these persons can help reflecting, lhat unless they have in truth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary manner furnished for conversation ; if they are enter- taining, it is at their own expense. Is it possible, that it should never come into people's thoughts to suspect, whether or no it be to their advantage to show so very much of themselves ? Oh that you would altogether hold your peace, and it should be your wisdom* Remember likewise there are persons who love fewer words, an inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard, though of too still and composed tempers for you. Of this number was the son of Sirach: for he plainly speaks from experience, when he says; As hills of sands are to •the steps of the ^ged, so is one of many words to a quiet man. But one would think it should be obvious to every one, that when they are in company with their superiors of any kind, in years, knowledge, and experience: when proper and useful subjects are discoursed of, which they cannot bear a part in ; that these are times for silence : when they should learn to hear, and be attentive; at least in their turn. It is indeed a very unhappy way these people are in : they in a manner cut themselves out from all advantage of conversation, except that of being enter- tained with their own talk: tlieir business in coming into company not being at all to be informed, to hear, to learn; but to display themselves; or rather to exert their faculty, and talk without any design at all. And if we consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat to unbend the mind ; as a diversion from the cares, the business, and the sorrows of life ; it is of the very nature of it, that the discourse be mutual. This, I say is .im- plied in the very notion of what we distinguish jy con- versation, or being in company. Attention to the con- tinued discourse of one alone grows more painful often, than the cares and business we come to be diverted from. * Job xiil. 60 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [Ser, IV. He therefore who imposes this upon us is guilty of a double offence ; arbitrarily enjoining silence upon all the rest, and likewise obliging them to this painful attention. I am sensible these things are apt to be passed over, as too little to come into a serious discourse : but in real- ity men are obliged, Sven in point of morality and virtue^ to observe all the decencies of behaviour. The greatest evils in life have had their rise from somewhat, which was thought of too little importance to be attended to. And as to the matter we are now upon, it is absolutely necessary to be considered. For if people will not maintain a due government over themselves, in regard- ing proper times and seasons for silence, but will be talking; they certainly, whether they design it or not at first, will go on to scandal and evil-speaking, and divulg- ing secrets. If it were needful to say any thing further, to persuade men to learn this lesson of silence; one might put them in mind, how insignificant they render themselves by this excessive talkativeness: insomuch that, if they da chance to say any thing which deserves to be attended to and regarded, it is lost in the variety and abundance which they utter of another sort The occasions of silence then are obvious, and one would think should be easily distinguished by every body: namely, when a man has nothing to say; or no- thing, but what is better unsaid : better, either in regard to particular persons he is present with ; or from its being an interruption to conversation itself; or to conversation of a more agreeable kind; or better, lastly, with regard to himself. I will end this particular with two reflec- tions of the Wise Man: one of which, in the strongest manner, exposes the ridiculous part of this licentiousness of the tongue ; and the other, the great danger and vi- ciousness of it. When he that is a fool walketh by the way side, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one that he is a fool.* The other is, In the multitude of words there wanteth not 6'm.t As to the government of the tongue in respect to talk- ing upon indifferent subjects : after what has been said * Eccics. X. 3. + Prov. x. 19. Ser. IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 61 concerning the due government of it in respect to the occasions and times for silence, there is Httle more ne- cessary, than only to caution men to be fully satisfied, that the subjects are indeed of an indifferent natur&; and not to spend too much time in conversation of this kind. But persons must be sure to take heed, that the subject of their discourse be at least of an indifferent nature : that it be no way offensive to virtue, religion, or good manners ; that it be not of a licentious dissolute sort, this leaving always ill impressions upon the mind; that it be no way injurious or vexatious to others; and that too much time be not spent this way, to the neglect of those duties and offices of life which belong to their sta- tion and condition in the world. However, though there is not any necessity that men should aim at being im- portant and weighty in every sentence they speak: yet since useful subjects, at least of some kinds, are as en- tertaining as others; a wise man, even when he desires to unbend his mind from business, would choose that the conversation might turn upon somewhat instructive. The last thing is, the government of the tongue as re- lating to discourse of the affairs of others, and giving of characters. These are in a manner the same: and one can scarce call it an indifierent subject, because discourse upon it almost perpetually runs into somewhat criminal. And first of all, it were very much to be wished that this did not take up so great a part of conversation; be- cause it is indeed a subject of a dangerous nature. Let any one consider the various interests, competitions, and little misunderstandings which arise amongst men; and he will soon see, that he is not unprejudiced and impar- tial; that he is not, as I may speak, neutral enough, to trust himself with talking of the character and concerns of his neighbour, in a free, careless, and unreserved manner. There is perp(>tual!y, and often it is not at- tended to, a rivalship amongst peoj^le of one kind or an- other, in respect to wit, beauty, learning, fortune, and that one thing will insensibly influence them to speak to the disadvantai2;e of others, even where there is no form- ed malice or ill design. Since therefore it is so hard to enter into this subject without offending, the first thing 62 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [SER.iy. to be observed is, that people should learn to decline it; to get over that strong inclination most have to be talk- ing of the concerns and behaviour of their neighbour. But since it is impossible that this subject should be wholly excluded conversation; and since it is necessary that the characters of men should be known: the next thing is, that it is a matter of importance what is said; and therefore, that we should be religiously scrupulous and exact to say nothing, either good or bad, but what is true. I put it thus, because it is in reality of a& great importance to the good of society, that the char« acters of bad men should be known, as that the charac- ters of good men should. People, who are given to scandal and detraction, may indeed make an ill use of this observation ; but truths which are of service towards regulating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or even concealed because a bad use may be made of them. This however would be effectually prevented, if these two things were attended to. First, That, though it is equally of bad consequence to society, that men should have either good or ill characters which they do not deserve; yet, when you say somewhat good of a man which he does not deserve, there is no wrong done him in particular; whereas, when you say evil of a man which he does not deserve, here is a direct forma! injury, a real piece of injustice done him. This therefore makes a wide difference; and gives us, in point of virtue, much greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others. Secondly, A good man is friendly to his fellow creatures, and a lover of mankind; and so will, upon every occa- sion, and often without any, say all the good he can of every body: but so far as he is a good man, will never be disposed to speak evil of any, unless there be some other reason for it, besides barely that it is true. If he be charged with having given an ill chara-cter, he will scarce think it a sufficient justification of himself to say it was a true one, unless he can also give some further account how he came to do so: a just indignation against particular instances of villany, where they are great and scandalous; or to prevent an innocent man from being deceived and betraved, when he has great trust and Skr, IV. OF THE TOlsGUE. 63 confidence in one who does not deserve it. Justice must be done to every part of a subject when we are consider- ing it. If there be a man, who bears a fair character in the world, whom yet we know to be without faith or honesty, to be really an ill man ; it must be allowed in general, that we shall do a piece of service to society, by letting such a one's true character be known. This is no more than what we have an instance of in our Saviour himself ; though he was mild and gentle beyond example.* How- ever, no words can express too strongly the caution which should be used in such a case as this. Upon the whole matter: If people would observe the obvious occasions of silence, if they would subdue the in- clinations to tale-bearing, and that eager desire fo engage attention, which is an original disease in some minds; they would be in little danger of offending with their tongue; and would, in a moral and religious sense, have due government over it. I will conclude with some precepts and reflections of the Son of Sirach upon this subject. Be swift to hear ; and, if thou hast understanding, ansv^er thy neighbour; if not, lay thy hand upon thy mouth. Honour and shame is in talk, A man of an ill tongue is dangerous in his city, and he that is rash in his talk shall be hated. A loise man will hold his tongue till he see opportunity; but a babbler and a fool will regard no time. He that useth many words shall be abhorred; and he that takcth to himself authority therein, shall be hated, A backbiting tongue hath di^iquieted many ; strong cities hath it pulled down, and overthrown the houses of great men. The tongue of a man is his Jail; but if thoic lace to hear, thou shall receive understanding. * Mark xii. 38, 40. 64 UPON COMPASSION. ' [Skr.V. SERMON V. UPON COMPASSION. Rejoice with them that do rejoice^ aiid weep with them that weep, Rom. xii. 15. Every man is to be considered in two capacities, the pri- vate and public; as designed to pursue his own interest, Etnd hkewise to contribute to the good of others. Who- ever will consider, may see, that in general there is no contrariety between these; but that from the original constitution of man, and the circumstances he is placed in, they perfectly coincide, and mutually carry on each other. But, amongst the great variety of affections or principles of action in our nature, some in their primary intention and design seem to belong to the single or private, others to the public or social capacity. The affections required in the text are of the latter sort. When we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and com- passionate their distresses, we, as it were, substitute them for ourselves, their interest for our own; and have the same kind of pleasure in their prosperity, and sorrow in their distress, as we have from reflection upon our own. Now there is nothing strange or unaccountable in our being thus carried out, and affected towards the intere:5ts of others. For, if there be any appetite, or any inward principle besides self-love; why may there not be an affection to the good of our fellow creatures, and delight from that affection's being gratified, and uneasiness from things going contrary to it.^^* * There being manifcsUy tl is appearance of men's substitnting others for lli« ni- selves, and being CJirrinJ out and ath cu d towards Liieni as towards themselves ; some persons, who have a system whicli excludes every affection of tfiis sort, have laken a pleasant niethovini tne f^riierai account they think fit to give of tliinos : they then-lore, inst^-ad of that manifc.Nt hnu, substitute another^ whicti is reconcileable to their own scheme. For do. s not every hoiiy by compassion nx-an an affection, the ohj< ct of wiiich is another in distress? Instead of this, but designing to have it niislak« n for this, they speak <*f an affection or passion, the object of which is ourselves, or djniger to our>elves. I h)l)l)es defines pill/ . imagi- natian, or Jictiok of future caU'-»tdy to ourselves, procctding jrom the sense (lie means SxR. v.] UPON COMPASSION. 65 Of these two, dehght in the prosperity of others, and compassion for their distresses, the last is felt much more generally than the former. Though men do not univer- sally rejoice with all whom they see rejoice, yet, acci- s]a'ss that our friends are the ohjt cts of the passion: whereas his definition of it asserts, (hat ourselves (or danger to ours<'lves) are the only ol)jects of it. He migiit iiideed have avoideil tliis absnrdity, by plainly saying what he is going to account ior ; namely, why tiie sight of the innocent, or of our friends in distress, raises greater fear for ourseh cs than the sight of otluT persons in d. stress. But had he put the tiling thus plainly, the tact itself would have been doubted ; that tht sight of our friends in distress raises in its greater fear for our- selves, than the sight of others in distress. And in the next pl;;ce it wouhl imme- diately Ji;;ve ()C(Mirred to every one, that tiie fact now mentioned, wliich at h ast is doubtful, whether true or lalse, was not the same with this fact, which nobody ever doubted, that the sight of our friends in distress 7-aises in us greater compassion than Vu sight of others in distress: every one, 1 say, wouhl have seen that these are not the same, but two different inquiries; nnil consequently, that fi'ar and con^tassion are iiol tiie same. Suppose a j>er>on to be in real ilanger, and by some means or other to luive forgot it; any trilling a<'cident, any soumi might alarm him, recall the daifger to hi.s r« inembrance, anil renew his fear: but it is almost too grossly ridicji- lou>> (ihoiigh it is to show an absurdity) to speak of that sound or acciilent as an object of compassion ; and yet, according to Mr 1 loblx s, our gn atest friend in distress is no more to us, no more the object of compassion, or of any alVection in our lienrt : neither tlie one nor the other raises any (motion in our mind, but only the thoughts of our liublenj'ss to calamity, and the fear of it; and both eipially ilo this. It is fit such sort of accounts of human nature should be shown to be what they really are, because there is raised upon llu-ni a geiu-ral sc-heme which \indermines the whole fouiKiation of couimon justice and hoiu sty. See HiMes if lluvnin Nature, c. 0. ^ 10. riiere are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon siplit of jiersons in distress: real sorrow ami <;oncern h»r the misery of our lellow creaiiires ; some dei^ree of satishiction from a consciousness of our freedom from that misery ; and as the mind p:L>.ses on from one tiling to another, it is not unnatural from s\\c\\ an orc4W sion to reflect upon our liableness to tlie siinie or other calamities. The two last frequently aceoinpaiiy the first, but it is the first only which is pn)per compassion, of which the distress«(i are objects, and which dirtciiy (iirries us with ralmiu-«is and tln)uglit to their assistance. Any one of lhes»', from various juid complicated reasoni way in particular rases pn-vail over the other two; and tin re are. I suppo!«.r, in* Stances, where the bare sight of distress, witliout our lecHng any compassiou for E 66 UPON COMPASSION. [Skb. V- dental obstacles removed, they naturally compassionate all, in some degree, whom they see in distress; so far as, they have any real perception or sense of that distress insomuch that words expressing this latter, pity, com- passion, frequently occur; whereas we have scarce any single one, by which the former is distinctly expressed* Congratulation indeed answers condolence: but both these words are intended to signify certain forms of civility, rather than any inward sensation or feeling. This difference or inequality is so remarkable, that we plainly consider compassion as itself an original, distinct,, particular affection in human nature; whereas to rejoice^ in the good of others, is only a consequence of the general affection of love and good-will to them. The reason and account of which matter is this: when a man has obtained any particular advantage or fehcity,. his end is gained; and he does not in that particular want the assistance of another: there was therefore no need of a distinct affection towards that felicity of another already obtained: neither would such affection directly carry him on to do good to that person: whereas men in distress want assistance; and compassion leads us directly to assist them. The object of the former is the present felicity of another; the object of the latter is the present misery of another. It is easy to see that the latter wants a particular affection for its rehef, and that the former does not want one, because it does not want assistance. And upon supposition of a distinct affection in both cases, the one must rest in the exercise of itself, having nothing further to gain; the other does not rest in itself, but carries us on to assist the distressed. But, supposing these affections natural to the mind, may bp the occasion of t'iLhcr or lK)th of the two latter perceptions. One mig^ht atld that it there be really any such thin^ as the fiction or iniap^inaiion of danger to our selves f rom I he sight ot the misery of others, whicii HoI)l)es speaks of, and wliicii he has absm-illy mistaken for the wliole of compassion ; if there be any thing of this sort common to mankind, distinct from the reflection of reason, it wouUl be a most remarkable instiuice of what was furtiiest from the tiioiiglits, namely, of a mutual sympalliy between each jtarticular of the species, a fellow feeling common to man- kind. U would not indeed be an example of our substituting others for ourselves, but it would be an example of substituting ourselves for others. And as it would not be an instance of benevolence, so neither would it be an instance of self love : for this phantom of danger to ourselves, naturally rising to view upon sight of the distress' s of others would be no more an instance of love to ourselves, than the paia of hunger is. v.] UPON COMPASSION. 67 particularly the last; ^^Has not each man troubles enough of his own? must he indulge an affection which appro- priates to him.self those of others? w^hich leads him to contract the least desirable of all friendships, friendships with the unfortunate ? Must we invert the known rule of prudence, and choose to associate ourselves with the dis- tressed? or, allowing that we ought, so far as it is in our power to relieve them, yet is it not better to do this from reason and duty? Does not passion and affection of every kind perpetually mislead us? Nay, is not passion and affection itself a weakness, and what a perfect being must be entirely free from?" Perhaps so: but it is mankind I am speaking of; imperfect creatures, and who naturally, and, from the condition we are placed in, necessarily depend upon each other. With respect to such creatures, it would be found of as bad consequence to eradicate all natural affections, as to be entirely go- verned by them. This would almost sink us to the condition of brutes; and that would leave us without a sufficient principle of action. Reason alone, w^hatever any one may wish, is not in reality a sufficient motive of virtue in such a creature as man ; but this reason joined with those affections which God has impressed upon his heart : and when these are allowed scope to exercise themselves, but under strict government and direction of reason ; then it is we act suitably to our nature, and to the circumstances God has placed us in. Neither is affection itself at all a weakness ; nor does it argue defect, any otherwise than as our senses and appetites do; they belong to our condition of nature, and are what we can- not do without. God Almighty is, to be sure, unmoved by passion or appetite, unchanged by affection: but then it is to be added, that he neither sees, nor hears, nor perceives things by any senses like ours; but in a man- ner infinitely more perfect. Now, as it is an absurdity almost too gross to be mentioned, for a man to endea- vour to get rid of his senses, because the Supreme Being discerns things more perfectly without them; it is a real, though not so obvious an absurdity, to endeavour to eradicate the passions he has given us, because he is without them. For, since our passions are as really £ t 68 UPON COMPASSION. [Ser. V. a part of our constitution as our senses; since the former as really belong to our condition of nature as the latter to get rid of either is equally a violation of, and breaking in upon, that nature and constitution he has given us. Both our senses and our passions are a sup- ply to the imperfection of our nature: thus they show that we are such sort of creatures, as to stand in need of those helps which higher orders of creatures do not. But it is not the supply, but the deficiency; as it is not a remedy, but a disease, which is the imperfection. How- ever, our appetites, passions, senses, no way imply disease: nor indeed do they imply deficiency or imperfec- tion of any sort; but only this, that the constitution of nature, according to which God has made us, is such as to require them. And it is far from being true, that a wise man must entirely suppress compassion, and all fellow feeling for others, as a weakness; and trust to reason alone to teach and enforce upon him the practice of the several charities we owe to our kind; that, on the contrary, even the bare exercise of such affections would itself be for the good and happiness of the world ; and the imperfection of the higher principles of reason and religion in man, the little influence they have upon our practice, and the strength and prevalency of contrary ones, plainly require these affections to be a restraint upon these latter, and a supply to the deficiencies of the former. First, The very exercise itself of these affections in a just and reasonable manner and degree, would upon the whole increase the satisfactions, and lessen the miseries of hfe. It is the tendency and business of virtue and religion to procure, as much as may be, universal good-will, trust, and friendship amongst mankind. If this could be brought to obtain; and each man enjoyed the happiness of others, as every one does that of a friend; and looked upon the success and prosperity of his neighbour, as every one does upon that of his children and family ; it is too manifest to l)c insisted upon, how much the enjoy- ments of life would be increased. There would be so much happiness introduced into the world, without auv S«. v.] UPON COMPASSION. 69 deduction or inconvenience from it, in proportion as the precept of rejoicing loith those who rejoice was universally obeyed. Our Saviour has owned this good affection as belonging to our nature, in the parable of the lost sheep; and does not think it to the disadvantage of a perfect state, to represent its happiness as capable of increase, from reflection upon that of others. But since in such a creature as man, compassion or sorrow for the distress of others seems so far necessarily connected with joy in their prosperity, as that whoever rejoices in one must unavoidably compassionate the other; there cannot be that delight or satisfaction, which appears to be so considerable, without the inconven- iences, whatever they are, of compassion. However, without considering this connexion, there is no doubt but that more good than evil, more dehght than sorrow, arises from compassion itself; there being so many things which balance the sorrow of it. There is first the relief which the distressed feel from this affec- tion in others towards them. There is likewise the ad- ditional misery which they would feel from the reflec- tion, that no one commiserated their case. It is indeed true,^that any disposition, prevailing beyond a certain degree, becomes somewhat wTong ; and we have ways of speaking, which, though they do not directly express that excess, yet, always lead our thoughts to it, and give us the notion of it. Thus, when mention is made of de- light in being pitied, this always conveys to our mind the notion of somewhat which is really a weakness: the manner of speaking, I say, implies a certain weakness and feebleness of mind, which is and ought to be disap- proved. But men of the greatest fortitude would in distress feel uneasiness, from knowing that no person in the world had any sort of compassion or real concern for them ; and in some cases, especially when the tem- per is enfeebled by sickness, or any long and great dis- tress, doubtless, would feel a kind of relief even from the helpless good-will and ineffectual assistances of those about them. Over against the sorrow of compassion is likewise to be set a peculiar calm kind of satisfaction, which accompanies it, unless in cases where the distress 70 UPON COMPASSION. [Seb. V. of another is by some means so brought home to our- selves, as to become in a manner our own; or when from weakness of mind the affection rises too high, which ought to be corrected. This tranquilhty or calm satis- faction proceeds partly from consciousness of a right af- fection and temper of mind, and partly from a sense of our own freedom from the misery we compassionate. This last may possibly appear to some at first sight faulty ; but it really is not so. It is the same with that positive enjoyment, which sudden ease from pain for the present affords, arising from a real sense of misery, joined with a sense of our freedom from it; which in all cases must afford some degree of satisfaction. To these things must be added the observation, which respects both the affections we are considering ; that they who have got over all fellow feeHng for others, have withal contracted a certain callousness of heart, which renders them insensible to most other satisfactions, but those of the grossest kind. Secondly, Without the exercise of these affections, men would certainly be much more wanting in the of- fices of charity they owe to each other, and likewise more cruel and injurious, than they are at present. • The private interest of the individual would not be sufficiently provided for by reasonable and cool self-love alone; therefore the appetites and passions are placed within as a guard and further security, without which it would not be taken due care of. It is manifest our life would be neglected, were it not for the calls of hunger, and thirst, and weariness; notwithstanding that without them reason would assure us, that the recruits of food and sleep are the necessary means of our preservation. It is therefore absurd to imagine, that without affection, the same reason alone would be more effectual to en- gage us to perform the duties we owe to our fellow creatures. One of this make would be as dcfc ctive, as much wanting, considered with respect to society, as one of the former make would be defective, or wanting, considered as an individual, or in his private capacity. Is it possible any can in earnest think, that a public spirit, i. e. a settled reasonable principle of benevolence to S£B. V.l UPON COMPASSION. 71 fnankind, is so prevalent and strong in the species, as that we may venture to throw off the under affections, which are its assistants, carry it forward and mark out particu- lar courses for it ; family, friends, neighbourhood, the distressed, our country? The common joys and the common sorrows, which belong to these relations and circumstances, are as plainly useful to society, as the pain and pleasure belonging to hunger, thirst, and weari- ness, are of service to the individual. In defect of that higher principle of reason, compassion is often the only way by which the indigent can have access to us : and therefore, to eradicate this, though it is not indeed for- mally to deny them that assistance which is their due ; yet it is to cut them off from that which is too frequently their only way of obtaining it. And as for those who have shut up this door against the complaints of the miserable, and conquered this affection in themselves ; even these persons will be under great restraints from the same affection in others. Thus a man who has him- self no sense of injustice, cruelty, oppression, will be kept from running the utmost lengths of wickedness, by fear of that detestation, and even resentment of inhu- manity, in many particular instances of it, which com- passion for the object towards whom such inhumanity is exercised, excites in the bulk of mankind. And this is frequently the chief danger, and the chief restraint, which tyrants and the great oppressors of the world feel. In general, experience will sliow, that as want of natural appetite to food supposes and proceeds from some bodily disease; so the apathy the Stoics talk of, as much supposes, or is accompanied with, somewhat amiss in the moral character, in that which is the health of the mind. Those who formerly aimed at this upon the foot of ])hil()sophy, a))])ear to have liad better success in eradicating the affections of tenderness and compassion, than they had with the passions of envy, pride, and re- sentment: these latter, at best, were but concealed, and (hat imperfectly too. How far this observation may be extended to such as endeavour to suppress the natural Mjipulses of tlieir affections, in order to form themselves 72 UPON COMPASSION.. [Sia. for business and the world, I shall not determine. But there does not appear any capacity or relation to be named, in which men ought to be entirely deaf to the calls of affection, unless the judicial one is to be ex- cepted. And as to those who are commonly called the men of pleasure, it is manifest, that the reason they set up for hardness of heart, is to avoid being interrupted in their course, by the ruin and misery they are the authors of: neither are persons of this character always the most free from the impotencies of envy and resentment. What may men at last bring themselves to, by suppres- sing their passions and affections of one kind, and leav- ing those of the other in their full strength .^^ But surely it might be expected that persons who make pleasure their study and their business, if they understood what they profess, would reflect, how many of the entertain- ments of life, how many of those kind of amusements which seem peculiarly to belong to men of leisure and education, they become insensible to by this acquired hardness of heart. I shall close these reflections with barely mentioning the behaviour of that divine Person, who was the exam- ple of all perfection in human nature, as represented in the Gospels mourning, and even, in a literal sense, weeping over the distresses of his creatures. The observation alreadv made, that, of the two affec- tions mentioned in the text, the latter exerts itself much more than the former; that, from the original constitu- tion of human nature, we much more generally and sensibly compassionate the distressed, than rejoice with the prosperous, requires to be particularly considered. This observation, therefore, with the reflections which arise out of it, and which it leads our thoughts to, shall be the subject of another discourse. For the conclusion of this, let me just take notice of the danger of over-great refinements; of going besides or beyond the plain, obvious, first appearances of things, upon the subject of morals and religion. The least ob- servation will show, how little the generality of men are capable of speculations. Therefore morality and religion- Skb. v.] UPON COMPASSION. 73 must be somewhat plain and easy lo be understood: it must appeal to wiiaL we call plain common sense, as distinguished from superior capacity and improvement ; because it appeals to mankind. Persons of superior capacity and improvement have often fallen into errors, which no one of mere common understanding could. Is it possible that one of this latter character could ever of himself have thought, that there was absolutely no such thing in mankind as affection to the good of others.^ Suppose of parents to their children ; or that what he felt upon seeing a friend in distress was only fear for him- self; or, upon supposition of the affections of kindness and compassion, that it was the business of wisdom and virtue to set him about extirpating them as fast as he could ? And yet each of these manifest contradictions to nature has been laid down by men of speculation, as a discovery in moral philosophy; which they, it seems, have found out through all the specious appearances to the contrary. This reflection may be extended further. Tlie extravagancies of enthusiasm and superstition do not at all lie in the road of common sense ; and there- fore, so far as they are original mistakes, must be owing to going beside or beyond it. Now, since inquiry and examination can relate only to things so obscure and uncertain as to stand in need of it, and to persons who are capable of it ; the proper advice to be given to plain honest men, to secure them from the extremes both of superstition and irreligion, is that of the son of Sirach : In every good icork trust thy own soul ; for this is the keeping of the commandment* 74 UPON COMPASSION. Smu VI. SERMON VI. UPON COMPASSION. PREACUED THE FIRST SUNDAY IN I-ENT. Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep icith them that tceep, — Rom. xii. 15. There is a much more exact correspondence between the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take notice of. The inward frame of man does in a peculiar manner answer to the external condition and circum- stances of life, in which he is placed. This is a particular instance of that general observation of the son of Sirach: All things are double one against another, and God hath made nothing imperfect* The several passions and af- fections in the heart of man, compared with the circum- stances of life in which he is placed, afford, to such as Avill attend to them, as certain instances of final causes, as any whatever, which are more commonly alleged for such: since those affections lead him to a certain deter- minate course of action suitable to those circumstances, as (for instance) compassion, to relieve the distressed. And as all observations of final causes, drawn from the principles of action in the heart of man, compared with the condition he is placed in, serve all the good uses which instances of final causes in the material world about us do ; and both these are equally proofs of wisdom and design in the Author of nature: so the former serve to further good purposes; they show us what course of life we are made for, what is our duty, and in a peculiar manner enforco upon us the practice of it. Suppose we are capable of happiness and of misery in degrees equally intense and extreme, yet, we are capable of the latter for a much lono^er time, beyond all com- parison. We see men in the tortures of pain for hours, days, and, excepting the sjiort suspensions of sleep, for months together, without intermission; to which no en- joyments of life do, in degree and continuance, bear any * Ecclus. xlii. 24. SER.VI.] UPON COMPASSION. 75 sort of proportion. And such is our make and that of the Avorld about us, that any thing may become the mstrument of pain and sorrow to us. Thus almost any one man is capable of doing mischief to any other, though he may not be capable of doing him good: and if he be capable of doing him some good, he is capable of doing him more evil. And it is, in numberless cases, much more in our power to lessen the miseries of others, than to promote their positive happiness, any otherwise than as the former often includes the latter; ease from misery occasioning for some time the greatest positive enjoy- ment. This constitution of nature, namely, that it is so much more in our power to occasion and likewise to lessen misery, than to promote positive happiness, plainly required a particular affection, to hinder us from abusing, and to incline us to make a right use of the former powers, i. e. the powers both to occasion and to lessen misery; over and above what was necessary to induce ns to make a right use of the latter power, that of pro- moting positive happiness. The power we have over the misery of our fellow creatures, to occasion or lessen it, being a more important trust than the power we have of promoting their positive happiness; the former re- quires and has a further, an additional security and guard against its being violated, beyond and over and above what the latter has. The social nature of man, and general good-will to his species, equally prevent him from doing evil, incline him to relieve the distressed, and to promote the positive happiness of his fellow creatures: but compassion only restrains him from the first, and carries him to the second; it hath nothing to do with the third. The final causes then of compassion arc to prevent and to relieve misery. As to the former: this affection may ])lainly bo a restraint upon resentment, envy, unreasonable self-love; that is, upon all the principles from which men do evil to one another. Let us instance only in resentment. It seldom happens, in regulated societies, that men have an enemy so entirely in their power, as to be able to satiate their resentment with safety. Hut if we were to 76 UPON COMPASSION. [Skb. VL put tnis case, it is plainly supposable, that a person might bring his enemy into such a condition, as from being the object of anger and rage, to become an object of com- passion, even to himself, though the most mahcious man in the world: and in this case compassion would stop him, if he could stop with safety, from pursuing his re- venge any further. But since nature has placed within us more powerful restraints to prevent mischief, and since the final cause of compassion is much more to relieve misery, let us go on to the consideration of it in this view. As this world was not intended to be a state of any great satisfaction or high enjoyment; so neither was it intended to be a mere scene of unhappiness and sorrow. Mitigations and reliefs are provided by the merciful Author of nature, for most of the afflictions in human life. There is kind provision made even against our frailties ; as we are so constituted, that time abundantly abates our sorrows, and begets in us that resignment of temper, which ought to have been produced by a better cause ; a due sense of the authority of God, and our state of dependence. This holds in respect to far the greatest part of the evils of life ; I suppose, in some degn e as to pain and sickness. Now this part of the constitution or make of man, considered as some relief to misery, and not as provision for positive happiness, is, if I may so speak, an instance of nature's compassion for us: and every natural remedy or relief to misery may be con - sidered in the same view. But since in many cases it is very much in our power to alleviate the miseries of each other; and benevolence, though natural in man to man, yet is in a very low degree kept down by interest and competitions; and men, for the most part, are so engaged in the business and pleasures of the world, as to overlook and turn away from objects of misery; which are plainly considered as interruptions to them in their way, as intruders upon their business, their gaiety and mirth; compassion is an advocate within us in their behalf, to gain the unhappy admittance and access, to make their case attended to. If it sometimes serves a contrary purpose, and makea Sjk. VI.] UPON COMPASSION. 77 men industriously turn away from the miserable, these are only instances of abuse and perversion : for the end, for which the affection was given us, most certainly is not to make us avoid, but to make us attend to, the objects of it. And if men would only resolve to allow thus much to it; let it bring before their view, the view of their mind, the miseries of their fellow creatures; let it gain for them that their case be considered; I am persuaded it would not fail of gaining more, and that very few real objects of charity would pass unrelieved. Pain and sorrow and misery have a right to our assistance: com- passion puts us in mind of the debt, and that we owe it to ourselves as well as to the distressed. For, to en- deavour to get rid of the sorrow of compassion by turning from the wretched, when yet it is in our power to relieve them, is as unnatural, as to endeavour to get rid of the pain of hunger by keeping from the sight of food. That we can do one with greater success than we can the other, is no proof that one is less a violation of nature than the other. Compassion is a call, a demand of na- ture, to relieve the unhappy; as hunger is a natural call for food. This affection plainly gives the objects of it an additional claim to relief and mercy, over and above what our fellow creatures in common have to our good-will. Liberality and bounty are exceedingly commendable; and a particular distinction in such a world as this, where men set themselves to contract their heart, and close it to all interests but their own. It is by no means to be opposed to mercy, but always accompanies it: the distinction between them is only, that the former leads our thoughts to a more promiscuous and undistinguished distribution of favours; to those who are not, as well as those who are necessitous; whereas the object of compassion is misery. But in the comparison, and where there is not a possibility of both, mercy is to have the preference: the affection of compassion manifestly leads us to this preference. Thus, to relieve the indigent and distressed, to single out the unhapjn', from whom can be (xpcctcd no returns cither of ])rcsent (Mitertainmcnt or future ser- vice, for the objects of our favours; to esteem a man'> being friendless as a reconimeiulation ; dejection, and 78 UPON COMPASSION. [Ser. TI. incapacity of struggling through the world, as a motive for assisting him ; in a word, to consider these circum- stances of disadvantage, which are usually thought a sufficient reason for neglect and overlooking a person, as a motive for helping him forward: this is the course of benevolence which compassion marks out and directs us to; this is that humanity, which is so pe- culiarly becoming our nature and circumstances in this world. To these considerations, drawn from the nature of man, must be added the reason of the thing itself we are recommending, which accords to and shows the same. For since it is so much more in our power to lessen the misery of our fellow creatures, than to promote their positive happiness; in cases where there is an inconsis- tency, we shall be likely to do much more good by setting ourselves to mitigate the former, than by endeavouring to promote the latter. Let the competition be between the poor and the rich. It is easy, you will say, to see which will have the preference. True : but the question is, which ought to have the preference? What propor- tion is there between the happiness produced by doing a favour to the indigent, and that produced by doing the same favour to one in easy circumstances.^ It is mani- fest, that the addition of a very large estate to one who before had an affluence, will in many instances yield him less new enjoyment or satisfaction, than an ordinary charity would yield to a necessitous person. So that it is not only true, that our nature, i. e. the voice of God within us, carries us to the exercise of chanty and bene- volence in the way of compassion or mercy, preferably to any other way ; but we also manifestly discern much more good done by the former; or, if you will allow me the expressions, more misery annihilated, and happiness created. If charity and benevolence, and endeavouring to do good to our fellow creatures, be any thing, this obser- vation deserves to be most seriously considered by all who have to bestow. And it holds with great exactness, when applied to the several degree s of greater and less indigency throughout the various ranks in human life : the happiness or good produced not being in proportion Sk„, Vi.i UPON COMPASSION. 79 to wliat is bestowed, but in proportion to this joined with the r.'eed there was of it. It may perhaps be expected, that upon this subject notice should be taken of occasions, circumstances, and characters, which seem at once to call forth affections of different sorts. Thus vice may be thought the object both of pity and indignation: folly, of pity and of laughter. How far this is strictly true, I shall not inquire; but only observe upon the appearance, how niuch more humane it is to yield and give scope to affections, which are most directly in favour of, and friendly towards, our fellow creatures; and that there is plainly much less danger of being led wrong by these, than by the other. But, notwithstanding all that has been said in recom- mendation of compassion, that it is most amiable, most becoming human nature, and most useful to the world; yet it must be owned, that every affection, as distinct from a principle of reason, may rise too high, and be beyond its just proportion. And by means of this one carried too far, a man throughout his life is subject to much more uneasiness than belongs to his share : and in particular instances, it may be in such a degree as to incapacitate him from assisting the very person who is the object of it. But as there are some who upon prin- ciple set up for suppressing this affection itself as weak- ness, there is also I know not what of fashion on this side; and, by some means or other, the whole world ahnost is run into the extremes of insensibility towards the distresses of their fellow creatures: so that general rules and exhortations must always be on the other side. And now to go on to the uses we should make of the foregoing reflections, the further ones tliey lead to, and the general temper they have a tendency to beget in us. There being that distinct affection implanted in the na- ture of man, tending to lessen the miseries of life, tliat ])articular provision made for aliatini; its sorrows, more than for increasing its positive happiness, as before ex- plained; this may suggest to us what should be our gen- eral aim respecting ourselves, in our passage through this world: namely, to endeavo.ir chiefly to escape i^iisery, keep free from uneasiness, pam, and sorrow, or to get f 80 UPON COMPASSION. [Ser. VI. relief and mitigation of them ; to propose to ourselves peace and tranquillity of mind, rather than pursue after high enjoyments. This is what the constitution of nature before explained marks out as the course we should fol- low, and the end we should aim at. To make pleasure and mirth and jollity our business, and be constantly hur- rying about after some gay amusement, some new grati- fication of sense or appetite, to those who will consider the nature of man and our condition in this world, will appear the most romantic scheme of life that ever entered into thought. And yet how many are there who go on in this course, without learning better from the daily, the hourly disappointments, listlessness, and satiety, which accompany this fashionable method of wasting away their days ! The subject we have been insisting upon would lead us into the same kind of reflections, by a different con- nexion. The miseries of life brought home to ourselves by compassion, viewed through this affection considered as the sense by which they are perceived, would beget in us that moderation, humility, and soberness of mind, which has been now recommended; and which peculiarly belongs to a season of recollection, the only purpose of w^hich is to bring us to a just sense of things, to recover us out of that forgetfulness of ourselves, and our true state, which it is manifest far the greatest part of men pass their whole life in. Upon this account Solomon says, that it is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting ; i. e. it is more to a man's advantage to turn his eyes towards objects of distress, to recall sometimes to his remembrance the occasions of sorrow, than to pass all his days in thoughtless mirth and gaiety. And he represents the wise as choosing to frequent the former of these places ; to be sure not for its own sake, but because by the sadness of the counte- nance the heart is made better. Every one observes how temperate and reasonable men are when humbled and brought low by afflictions, in comparison of what they are in high ])rosperity. By this voluntary resort to the house of mourning, which is here recommended, we might learn all those useful instructions which calamities Skb. VI.] UPON COMPASSION. 81 teach, without undergoing them ourselves; 'and grow wiser and better at a more easy rate than men com- monly do. The objects themselves, which in that place of sorrow lie before our view, naturally give us a seri- ousness and attention, check that wantonness which is the growth of prosperity and ease, and lead us to reflect upon the deficiencies of human life itself; that every many at Ms best estate, is altogether vanity. This would correct the florid and gaudy prospects and expectations which we are too apt to indulge, teach us to lower our notions of happiness and enjoyment, bring them down to the reality of things, to what is attainable, to what the frailty of our condition will admit of, which, for any continu- ance, is only tranquiUity, ease, and moderate satisfac- tions. Thus we might at once become proof against the temptations with which the whole world almost is carried away ; since it is plain, that not only what is called a hfe of pleasure, but also vicious pursuits in general, aim at some- what besides and beyond these moderate satisfactions. And as to that obstinacy and wilfulness, which renders men so insensible to the motives of religion; this right sense of ourselves and of the world about us would bend the stubborn mind, soften the heart, and make it more apt to receive impression : and this is the proper temper in which to call our ways to remembrance, to review and set home upon ourselves the miscarriages of our past life. In such a compliant state of mind, reason and conscience will have a fair hearing; which is the pre- paration for, or rather the beginning of, that repentance, the outward show of which we all put on at this season. Lastly, The various miseries of life which lie before us wherever we turn our eyes, the frailty of this mortal state we are passing through, may put us in mind that the present world is not our home; that we are mertly strangers and travellers in it, as all our fathers were. It is therefore to be considered as a foreign country; in which our poverty and wants, and the insufficient sup- plies of them, were designed to turn our views to that liigher and better state we are heirs to: a state where will be no follies to be overlooked, no miseries to be pitied, no wants to be relieved; where the affection we F 82 UPON THE CHARACTER £Sra. Ylh have been*now treating of will happily be lost, as there will be no objects to exercise it upon: for God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall he no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying : neither shall there he any more vain ; for the former things are passed away. SERMON VIL UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. PREACHED THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. Numb, xxiii. 10. These words, taken alone, and without respect to him who spoke them, lead our thoughts immediately to the different ends of good and bad men. For though the comparison is not expressed, yet it is manifestly implied ; as is also the preference of one of these characters to the other in that last circumstance, death. And, since dying the death of the righteous or of the wicked neces- sarily implies men s being righteous or wicked, i. e, having lived righteously or wickedly ; a comparison of them in their lives also might come into consideration, from such a single view of the words themselves. But my present design is to consider them with a particular reference or respect to him who spoke them; which reference, if you please to attend, you will see. And it what shall be offered to your consideration at this time be thought a discourse upon the whole history of this man, rather than upon the particular words I have read, this is of no consequence ; it is sufficient, if it afford re- flection of use and service to ourselves. But, in order to avoid cavils respecting this remarkable relation in Scripture, either that part of it which you have heard in the first lesson for the day, or any others ; let me just observe, that as this is not a place for an- swering them, so they no way affect the following dis- course; since the character there given is plainly a real one in life, and such as there are parallels to. V Sa. Vn.] OF BALAAM. 8S The occasion of Balaam's coming out of liis own country into the land of Moab, where he pronounced this solemn prayer or wish, he himself relates in the first parable or prophetic speech, of which it is the con- clusion. In which is a custom referred to, proper to be taken notice of: that of devoting enemies to destruction, before the entrance upon a war with them. This custom appears to have prevailed over a great part of the world ; for we find it amongst the most distant nations. The Romans had public officers, to whom it belonged as a stated part of their office. But there was somewhat more particular in the case now before us; Balaam being looked upon as an extraordinary person, whose blessing or curse was thought to be always effectual. In order to engage the reader's attention to this pas- sage, the sacred historian has enumerated the preparatory circumstances, which are these. Balaam requires tlie king of Moab to build him seven altars, and to prepare him the same number of oxen and of rams. The sacri- fice being over, he retires alone to a solitude sacred to these occasions, there to wait the divine inspiration or answer, for which the foregoing rites were the prepara- tion. And God met Balaam, and put a tcord in his mouth;* upon receiving which, he returns back to the altars, where was the king, who had all this while at- tended the sacrifice, as appointed; he and all the princes of Moab standing, big with expectation of the propliet's reply. And he took up his parable, and said, Balak the king of Moab hath brought me from Aram, out of the mountains of the east, saying. Come, curse m£ Jacob, and come, defy Israel. How shall I curse, whom God hath not cursed ^ Or how shall I defy, ichom the Lord hath not defied? For from the top of the rocks I see him, and from the hills I behold him : to, the people shall dwell alone y and shall not be reckoned among tlie nations, IVho can count the dust of Jacob, and the number of the fourth part of Israel? Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.f It is necessary, as you will see in the progress of this discourse, particularly to observe what he understood ♦ Ver. 4, 5. t Vcr. 6 84 UPON THE CHARACTER [Ser. VH. by righteous. And he himself is introduced in the book of Micah* explaining it; if by righteous is meant good, as to be sure it is. 0 my people, remember now what Balalc king of Moah consulted, and what Balaam the son of Beor answered him from Shittim unto Gilgal. From the mention of Shittim, it is manifest, that it is this very story which is here referred to, though another part of it, the account of which is not now extant; as there are many quotations in Scripture out of books which are not come down to us. Remember what Balaam answered, that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord ; i. e. the righteousness which God will accept. Balak demands. Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the high God? Shall I come before him with burnt -offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thou- sands of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ? Balaam answers him, He hath showed thee, O man, what is good : and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God? Here is a good man expressly characterized, as distinct from a dishonest and a superstitious man. No words can more strongly exclude dishonesty and false- ness of heart, than doing justice, and Icming mercy : and both these, as well as walking humbly with God, are put in opposition to those ceremonial methods of recom- mendation, which Balak hoped might have served the turn. From hence appears what he meant by the righteous whose death he desires to die. Whether it was his own character shall now be in- quired : and in order to determine it, we must take a view of his whole behaviour upon this occasion. When the elders of Moab came to him, though he appears to have been much allured with the rewards offered, yet he had such regard to the authority of God, as to keep the messengers in suspense until he had consulted his will. And God said to him. Thou shall not go with them, thou shall not curse the people, for they are blessed.^ Upon this he dismisses the ambassadors, with an absolute re- * Micah vi. t Chap. xxii. 12, Sat. VIL] OP BALAAM. 85 fusal of accompanying them back to their king. Thus far his regards to duty prevailed, neither does there any thing appear as yet amiss in his conduct. His answer being reported to the king of Moab, a more honourable embassy is immediately despatched, and greater rewards proposed. Then the iniquity of his heart began to dis- close itself. A thorough honest man would without hesitation have repeated his former answer, that he could not be guilty of so infamous a prostitution of the sacred character with which he was invested, as in the name of a prophet to curse those whom he knew to be blessed. But instead of this, which was the only honest part in these circumstances that lay before him, he desires the princes of Moab to tarry that night with him also ; and for the sake of the reward dehberates, whether by some means or other he might not be able to obtain leave to curse Israel ; to do that, which had been before revealed to him to be contrary to the will of God, which yet he resolves not to do without that permission. Upon which, as when this nation afterward rejected God from reigning over them, he gave them a king in his anger ; in the same way, as appears from other parts of the nar- ration, he gives Balaam the permission he desired : for this is the most natural sense of the words. Arriving in the territories of Moab, and being received with par- ticular distinction by the king, and he repeating in person the promise of the rewards he had before made to him by his ambassadors : he seeks, the text says, by sacrifices and enchaniments (what these were is not to our purpose), to obtain leave of God to curse the people; keeping still his resolution, not to do it without that permission: which not being able to obtain, he had such regard to the command of God, as to keep this resolution to the last The supposition of his being under a supernatural restraint is a mere fiction of Philo: he is ])hiinly repre- sented to be under no other force or restraint, than tlie fear of God. However, he goes on persevering in that endeavour, after he had declared, that God had not bc^ held iniquitij in Jacob, neither had he seat ]>erversrfiess in hrael;^ i. e. they were a people of virtue and piety, so * Vcr. L'l. 86 UPON THE CHARACTEK {^Seh. VIL far as not to have drawn down, by their iniquity, that curse which he was soliciting leave to pronounce upon them. So that the state of Balaam's mind was this: he waTited to do what he knew to be very wicked, and con- trary to the express command of God; he had inward checks and restraints, which he could not entirely get over; he therefore casts about for ways to reconcile this wickedness with his duty. How great a paradox soever this may appear, as it is indeed a contradiction in terms, it is the very account which the scripture gives us of him. But there is a more surprising piece of iniquity yet be- hind. Not daring in his religious character, as a prophet^ to assist the king of Moab, he considers whether there might not be found some other means of assisting him against that very people^ whom he himself by the fear of God was restrained from cursing in words. One would not think it possible, that the weakness, even of religious self-deceit in its utmost excess, could have so poor a distinction, so fond an evasion, to serve itself of. But so it was: and he could think of no other method, than to betray the children of Israel to provoke his wrath^ who was their only strength and defence. The tempta- tion which he pitched upon, was that concerning which Solomon afterward observed, that it had cast down many wounded; yea, many strong men had been slain by it: and of which he himself was a sad example, when his wives turned away his heart after other gods. This succeeded : the people sin against God; and thus the prophet's counsel brought on that destruction, which he could by no means be prevailed upon to assist with the religious ceremony of execration, which the king of Moab thought would itself have effected it. Their crime and punish- ment are related in Deuteronomy,* and Numbers. t And from the relation repeated in Numbers,^ it appears, that Balaam was the contriver of the whole matter. It is also ascribed to him in the Revelation,} where he is said to have taught Balak to cast a stumbling -block before the children of Israel. This was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man •who desired to die the death of the righteouSy and that his * Chap. iv. t Chap, xxv J Chap. xxxi. ^ Cliap. n. Sffl. Vn.^ i OF BALAAM. 87 last end might be like his: and this was the state of his mind, when he pronounced these words. So that the object we have now before us is the most astonishing in the world: a very wicked man, under a deep sense of God and rehgion, persisting still in his wickedness, and preferring the wages of unrighteousness, even when he had before him a lively view of death, and that approaching period of his days, which should deprive him of all those advantages for which he was prostitut- ing himself; and likewise a prospect, whether certain or uncertain, of a future state of retribution : all this joined with an explicit ardent wish, that, when he was to leave this world, he might be in the condition of a righteous man. Good God, what inconsistency, what perplexity is here ! With what different views of things, with what contradictory principles of action, must such a mind be torn and distracted! It was not unthinking carelessness, by which he ran on headlong in vice and folly, without ever making a stand to ask himself what he was doing: no; he acted upon the cool motives of interest and ad- vantage. Neither was he totally hard and callous to impressions of rehgion, what we call abandoned; for he absolutely denied to curse Israel. When reason assumes her place, when convinced of his duty, when he owns and feels, and is actually under the influence of the divine authority ; whilst he is carrying on his views to the grave, the end of all temporal greatness; under this sense of things, with the better character and more desirable state present — full before him — in his thouglits, in his wishes, voluntarily to choose the worse — what fatality is here! Or how otherwise can such a character be explained? And yet strange as it may appear, it is not altogether an uncommon one: nay, with some small alterations, and put a little lower, it is applicable to a very considerable part of the world. For if the reasonable choice be seen and acknowledged, and yet men make the unreasonable one, is not this the same contradiction; that very incon- sistency, which appeared so unaccountable? To give some little openini; to such characters and behaviour, it is to be observed in general, that there is no account to be given in the way of reason, of men's sa 88 UPON THE CHARACTER . [Ser, Vlf • strong attachments to the present world: our hopes and fears and pursuits are in degrees beyond all proportion to the known value of the things they respect. This may be said without taking into consideration religion and a future state; and when these are considered, the disproportion is infinitely heightened. Now when men go against their reason, and contradict a more important interest at a distance, for one nearer, though of less con- sideration; if this be the whole of the case, all that can be said is, that strong passions, some kind of brute force within, prevails over the principle of rationality. How- ever, if this be with a clear, full, and distinct view of the truth of things, then it is doing the utmost violence to themselves, acting in the most palpable contradiction to their very nature. But if there be any such thing in mankind as putting half-deceits upon themselves ; which there plainly is, either by avoiding reflection, or (if they do reflect) by religious equivocation, subterfuges, and palliating matters to themselves ; by these means con- science may be laid asleep, and they may go on in a course of wickedness with less disturbance. All the various turns, doubles, and intricacies in a dishonest heart, cannot be unfolded or laid open; but that there is somewhat of that kind is manifest, be it to be called self- deceit, or by any other name. Balaam had before his eyes the authority of God, absolutely forbidding him what he, for the sake of a reward, had the strongest in- clination to : he was likewise in a state of mind sober enough to consider death and his last end: by these considerations he was restrained, first from going to the king of Moab; and after he did go, from cursing Israel. But notwithstanding this, there was great wickedness in his heart. He could not forego the rewards of unright- eousness: he therefore first seeks for indulgences ; and when these could not be obtained, he sins against the whole meaning, end, and design of the prohibition, which no consideration in the world could prevail with him to go against the letter of. And surely that impious counsel he gave to Balak against the children of Israel, was, considered in itself, a greater piece of wickedness, than if he had cursed them in words. Sbiu VII.J of BALAAM. 89 If it be inquired what his situation, his hopes, and fears were, in respect to this his wish; the answer must be, that consciousness of the wickedness of his heart must necessarily have destroyed all settled hopes of dying the death of the righteous: he could have no calm satisfaction in this view of his last end: yet, on the other hand, it is possible that those partial regards to his duty, now men- tioned, might keep him from perfect despair. Upon the whole, it is manifest, that 13alaam had the most just and true notions of God and religion; as ap- pears, partly from the original story itself, and more plainly from the passage in Micah; where he explains rehgion to consist in real virtue and real piety, expressly distinguished from superstition, and in terms which most strongly exclude dishonesty and falseness of heart. Yet you see his behaviour: he seeks indulgences for plain wickedness; which not being able to obtain, he glosses over the same wickedness, dresses it up in a new form, in order to make it pass off more easily with himself. That is, he deliberately contrives to deceive and impose upon himself, in a matter which he knew to be of the utmost importance. To bring these observations home to ourselves: it is too evident, that many persons allow themselves in very unjustifiable courses, who yet make great pretences to religion ; not to deceive the world, none can be so weak as to think this will pass in our age ; but from principles, hopes, and fears, respecting God and a future state; and go on thus with a sort of tranquillity and quiet of mind. This cannot be upon a thorough consideration, and full resolution, that the pleasures and advantages they pro- pose are to be pursued at all hazards, against reason, against the law of God, and though everlasting destruc- tion is to be the consequence. This would be doing too great violence upon themselves. No, they are for mak- ing a composition with the Almighty. These of his commands they will obey: but as to others — why they will make all the atonements in their pow(T; the ambi- tious, the covetous, the dissolute man, each in a way which shall not contradict his respective pursuit. In- dulgences before, which was Balaam's first attempt, 90 UPON THE CHARACTER [Skr. VH. though he was not so successful in it as to deceive him- self, or atonements afterwards, are all the same. And here perhaps come in faint hopes that they may, and half-resolves that they will, one time or other, make a change. Besides these, there are also persons, who, from a more just way of considering things, see the infinite absurdity of this, of substituting sacrifice instead of obedience; there are persons far enough from supersti- tion, and not without some real sense of God and religion upon their minds; who yet are guilty of most unjustifiable practices, and go on with great coolness and command over themselves. The same dishonesty and unsoundness of heart discovers itself in these another way. In all common ordinary cases we see intuitively at first view what is our duty, what is the honest part. This is the ground of the observation, that the first thought is often the best. In these cases doubt and deliberation is itself dishonesty; as it was in Balaam upon the second message. That which is called con- sidering what is our duty in a particular case, is very often nothing but endeavouring to explain it away. Thus those courses, which, if men would fairly attend to the dictates of their own consciences, they would see to be corruption, excess, oppression, un charitableness ; these are refined upon — things were so and so circum- stantiated — great difficulties are raised about fixing bounds and degrees: and thus every moral obHgation whatever may be evaded. Here is scope, I say, for an unfair mind to explain away every moral obligation to itself. Whether men reflect again upon this internal management and artifice, and how explicit they are with themselves, is another question. There are many oper- ations of the mind, many things pass within, which we never reflect upon again ; which a bystander, from hav- ing frequent opportunities of observing us and our con- duct, may make shrewd guesses at. That great numbers are in this way of deceiving them- selves is certain. There is scarce a man in the world, who has entirely got over all regards, hopes, and fears, concerning God and a future state ; and these apprehen- SiB. Vn.] OF BALAAM. W sioiis in the generality, bad as we are, prevail in con- siderable degrees : yet men will and can be wicked, with calmness and thought ; we see they are. There must therefore be some method of .tnaking it sit a little easy upon their minds ; which, in the superstitious, is those indulgences and atonements before mentioned, and this self-deceit of another kind in persons of another charac- ter. And both these proceed from a certain unfairness of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty; tlie direct con- trary to that simplicity which our Saviour recommends, under the notion of becoming little children, as a neces- sary qualification for our entering into the kingdom of heaven. But to conclude: How much soever men differ in the course of life they prefer, and in their ways of palliating and excusing their vices to themselves; yet all agree in the one thing, desiring to die the death of the righteous. This is surely remarkable. The observation may be ex- tended further, and put thus: Even without determining what that is which we call guilt or innocence, there is no man but would choose, after having had the pleasure or advantage of a vicious action, to be free of the guilt of it, to be in the state of an innocent man. This shows at least the disturbance and implicit dissatisfaction in vice. If we inquire into the grounds of it, we shall find it pro- ceeds partly from an immediate sense of having done evil, and partly from an apprehension, that this inward sense shall one time or another be seconded by a higher judgment, upon which our whole being depends. Now to suspend and drown this sense, and these apprehen- sions, be it by the hurry of business or of pleasure, or by superstition, or moral equivocations, this is in a manner one and the same, and makes no alteration at all in the nature of our case. Things and actions arc what they are, and the consequences of them will be what they will be: why then should we desire to be deceived? As we are reasonable creatures, and have any regard to our- selves, we ought to lay these things plainly and honestly before our mind, and upon this, act as you plcnse, as you think most fit ; make that choice, and prefer that course of life, which you can justify to yourselves, and which UPON RESENTMENT. [Ser. VIII. sits more easy upon your own mind. It will immedi- ately appear, that vice cannot be the happiness, but must upon the whole be the misery, of such a creature as man; a moral, an accountabk agent. Superstitious obser- vances, self-deceit, though of a more refined sort, will not in reality at all mend matters with us. And the re- sult of the whole can be nothing else, but that with sim- plicity and fairness we keep innocency, and take heed unto the thing that is right ; for this alone shall bring a man peace at the last. SERMON VIII. UPON RESENTMENT. Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour^ and hate thine enemy : but I say unto you. Love your enemies^ bless them thai curse you, do good to them that hate you, arid pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you, — Matth. v. 43, 44. Since perfect goodness in the Deity is the principle from whenoe the universe was brought into being, and by which it is preserved; and since general benevolence is the great law of the whole moral creation ; it is a question which immediately occurs. Why had man im- planted in him a principle, which appears the direct con- trary to benevolence ? Now the foot upon which inquiries of this kind should be treated is this : to take human na- ture as it is, and the circumstances in which it is placed as they are ; and then consider the correspondence be- tween that nature and those circumstances, or what course of action and behaviour, respecting those circum- stances, any particular affection or passion leads us tOo This I mention to distinguish the matter now before us from disquisitions of quite another kind; namely. Why we are not made more perfect creatures, or placed in better circumstances ? these being questions which we have not, that I know of, any thing at all to do with. God Ahnighty undoubtedly foresaw the disorders, both natural Sa. viii.] upon resentment. 93 and moral, which would happen in this state of things. If upon this we set ourselves to search and examine why he did not prevent them ; we shall, I am afraid, be in danger of running into somewhat worse than impertinent curiosity. But upon this to examine how far the nature which he hath given us hath a respect to those circum- stances, such as they are ; how far it leads us to act a proper part in them ; plainly belongs to us : and such inquiries are in many ways of excellent use. Thus the thing to be considered is, not, Why we were not made of such a nature, and placed in such circumstances, as to have no need of so harsh and turbulent a passion as resentment : but, taking our nature and condition as being what they are, Why, or for what end such a passion was given us : and this chiefly in order to show what are the abuses of it. The persons who laid down for a rule, TIwu shall love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy, made short work with this matter. They did not, it seems, perceive any thing to be disapproved in hatred, more than in good- will: and, according to their system of morals, our enemy was the proper natural object of one of these passions, as our neighbour was of the other of them. This was all they had to say, and all they thought needful to be said, upon the subject. But this cannot be satisfactory ; because hatred, malice, and revenge, are directly contrary to the rehgion we profess, and to the nature and reason of the thing itself. Therefore, since no passion God hath endued us with can be in itself evil ; and yet since men frequently indulge a passion in such ways and degrees that at length it becomes quite another thing from what it was originally in our nature; and those vices of malice and revenge in particular take their occasion from the natural passion of resentment: it will be needful to trace this up to its original, that we may see what it is in itself as placed in our nature by its A uthor ; from which it will plainly appear, yor ichaf ends it was placed there. And when we know what the pas- sion is in itself, and the ends of it, we shall easily sec, what are the abuses of it, in which malice and revenge con- sist : and which are so strongly forbidden in the text, by the direct contrary being commanded. 94 UPON RESENTMENT. [Seb. VUL Resentment is of two kinds : hasty and sudden, or settled and deliberate. The former is called anger, and > often passion; which, though a general word, is fre- quently appropriated and confined to the particular feel- ing, sudden anger, as distinct from deliberate resentment, malice, and revenge. In all these words is usually im- plied somewhat vicious; somewhat unreasonable as to the occasion of the passion, or immoderate as to the de- gree or duration of it. But that the natural passion itself is indifferent, St Paul has asserted in that precept, Be ye angry, and sin not:* which though it is by no means to be understood as an encouragement to indulge ourselves in anger, the sense being certainly this. Though ye be angry, sin not; yet here is evidently a distinction made between anger and sin; between the natural passion, and sinful anger. Sudden anger, upon certain occasions, is mere instinct : as merely so, as the disposition to close our eyes upon the apprehension of somewhat falling into them ; and no more necessarily implies any degree of reason. I say, necessarily : for to be sure hasty, as well as deliberate, anger may be occasioned by injury or contempt ; in which cases reason suggests to our thoughts that injury and con- tempt, which is the occasion of the passion : but I am speaking of the former only so far as it is to be distinguish- ed from the latter. The only way in which our reason and understanding can raise anger, is by representing to our mind injustice or injury of some kind or other. Now mo- mentary anger is frequently raised, not only without any real, but without any apparent reason ; that is, without any appearance of injury, as distinct from hurt or pain. It cannot, I suppose, be tho:.ght, that this passion in infants ; in the lower species of animals ; and, which is often seen, in men towards them ; it cannot, I say, be imagined, that these instances of this passion are the effect of reason : no, they are occasioned by mere sensa- tion and feeling. It is opposition, sudden hurt, violence, which naturally excites the passion ; and the real demerit or fault of him who offers that violence, or is the cause of that opposition or hurt, does not, in many cases, so much as come into thought. * Ephes. iv. 2Q \ Sn. VIII.] UPON RESENTMENT. 95 The reason and end, for which man was made thus liable to this passion, is, that he might be better qualified to prevent, and likewise (or perhaps chiefly) to resist and defeat, sudden force, violence, and opposition, con- sidered merely as such, and without regard to the fault or demerit of him who is the author of them. Yet, since violence may be considered in this other and further view, as implying fault; and since injury, as distinct from harm, may raise sudden anger; sudden anger may like- wise accidentally serve to prevent, or remedy, such fault and injury. But, considered as distinct from settled anger, it stands in our nature for self-defence, and not for the administration of justice. There are plainly cases, and in the uncultivated parts of the world, and, where regular governments are not formed, they fre- quently happen, in which there is no time for consider- ation, and yet to be passive is certain destruction; in which sudden resistance is the only security. But from thisj deliberate anger or resentment is essen- tially distinguished, as the latter is not naturally excited by, or intended to prevent mere harm without appearance of wrong or injustice. Now, in order to see, as exactly as we can, what is the natural object and occasion of such resentment; let us reflect upon the manner in which we are touched with reading, suppose, a feigned story of baseness and villany, properly worked up to move our passions. This immediately raises indignation, somewhat of a desire that it should be punished. And though the designed injury be prevented, yet that it was designed is sufficient to raise this inward feeling. Sup- pose the story true, this inward feeling would be as natural and as just: and one may venture to affirm, that there is scarce a man in the world, but would have it upon some occasions. It seems in us plainly connected with a sense of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil. Suppose further, we knew both the person who did and who suffered the injury: neither would this make any alteration, only that it would probably afl*ert us more. The indignation raised by cruelty and injustice, and the desire of having it punished, which persons unconcerned would feel, is by no means malice. No, it is resentment 96 UPON RESENTMENT. [Ser. nil. against vice and wickedness : it is one of the common bonds, by which society is held together ; a fellow feeling, which each individual has in behalf of the whole species, as well as of himself. And it does not appear that this, generally speaking, is at all too high amongst mankind. Suppose now the injury I have been speaking of to be done against ourselves; or those whom we consider as ourselves. It is plain, the way in which we should be affected would be exactly the same in kind : but it would certainly be in a higher degree, and less transient; be- cause a sense of our own happiness and misery is most intimately and always present to us; and from the very constitution of our nature, we cannot but have a greater sensibility to, and be more deeply interested in, what concerns ourselves. And this seems to be the whole of this passion, which is, properly speaking, natural to mankind: namely, a resentment against injury and wickedness in general; and in a higher degree when towards ourselves, in proportion to the greater regard which men naturally ha?e for themselves, than for others. From hence it appears, that it is not natural, but moral evil; it is not suffering, but injury, wliich raises that anger or resentment, Avhich is of any con- tinuance. The natural object of it is not one, who appears to the suffering person to have been only the innocent occasion of his pain or loss; but one, who has been in a moral sense injurious either to ourselves or others. This is abundantly confirmed by observing what it is which heightens or lessens resentment; namely, the same which aggravates or lessens the fault: friendship, and former obhgations, on one hand; or inadvertency, strong temptations, and mistake, on the other. All this is so much understood by mankind, how little soever it be reflected upon, that a person would be reckoned quite distracted, who should coolly resent a harm, which had not to himself the appearance of injury or wrong. Men do indeed resent what is occasioned through care- lessness: but then they expect observance as their due, and so that carelessness is considered as faulty. It is likewise true, that they resent more strongly an injury done, than one which, though designed, was prevented, Ser. VIII.] UPON RESENTMENT. 97 in cases where the guilt is perhaps the same: the reason however is, not that bare pain or loss raises resentment, but, that it gives a new, and, as I may speak, additional sense of the injury or injustice. According to the natural course of the passions, the degrees of resentment are in proportion, not only to the degree of design and delibera- tion in the injurious person; but in proportion to this, joined with the degree of the evil designed or premedi- tated; since this likewise comes in to make the injustice greater or less. And the evil or harm will appear greater when they feel it, than when they only reflect upon it: so therefore will the injury: and consequently the resent- ment will be greater. The natural object or occasion of settled resentment then being injury, as distinct from pain or loss ; it is easy to see, that to prevent and to remedy such injury, and the miseries arising from it, is the end for which this passion was implanted in man. It is to be considered as a weapon, put into our hands by nature, against injury, injustice, and cruelty : how it may be innocently em- ployed and made use of, shall presently be mentioned. The account which has been now given of this passion is, in brief, that sudden anger is raised by, and w^as chiefly intended to prevent or remedy, mere harm distinct from injury ; but that it may be raised by injur)- , and mai/ serve to prevent or to remedy it; and then the occasions and eff*ects of it are the same with the occasions and effects of deliberate anger. But they are essentially dis- tinguished in this, that the latter is never occasioned by harm, distinct from injury; and its natural proper end is to remedy or prevent only that harm, which implies, or is supposed to imply, injury or moral wrong. Every one sees that these observations do not relate to those, who have habitually suppressed the course of their passions and affections, out of regard cither to interest or virtue; or who, from habits of vice and folly, have changed their nature. But, I suppose, there can be no doubt but this, now described, is the general course of res( ntment, considered as a natural passion, neither in- creased by indulgence, nor corrected by virtue, nor pre- vailed over by otlicr passions, or particular habits of life, o 98 UPON RESENTMENT. [Sfift. TOt As to the abuses of anger, which it is to be observed may be in all different degrees, the first which occurs is w^hat is commonly called passion; to which some men are liable, in the same way as others are to the epilepsy , or any sudden particular disorder. This distemper ol the mind seizes them upon the least occasion in the world, and perpetually without any real reason at all: and by means of it they are plainly, every day, every waking hour of their lives, liable and in danger of run- ning into the most extravagant outrages. Of a less boisterous, but not of a less innocent kind, is peevishness ; which I mention with pity, with real pity to the unhappy creatures, who, from their inferior station, or other cir- cumstances and relations, are obliged to be in the way of, and to serve for a supply to it. Both these, for ought that I can see, are one and the same principle : but as it take^ root in minds of different makes, it appears dif- ferently, and so is come to be distinguished by different names. That which in a more feeble temper is peevish- ness, and languidly discharges itself upon ever}'' thing which comes in its way; the same principle in a temper of greater force and stronger passions, becomes rage and fury. In one, the humour discharges itself at once; in the other, it is continually discharging. This is the account of passion and peevishness, as distinct from each other, and appearing in different persons. It is no ob- jection against the truth of it, that they are both to be seen sometimes in one and the same person. With respect to deliberate resentment, the chief in- stances of abuse are: when, from partiality to ourselves, we imagine an injury done us, when there is none: when this partiality represents it to us greater than it really is : when we fall into that extravagant and monstrous kind of resentment, towards one who has innocently been the occasion of evil to us ; that is, resentment upon account of pain or inconvenience, without injury ; which is the same absurdity, as settled anger at a thing that is inanimate : when the indignation against injury and injustice rises too high, and is beyond proportion to the particular ill action it is exercised upon : or, lastly, when pain or harm of any kind is inflicted merely in conse- Sia.Vin.] UPON RESENTMENT. 99 quence of, and to gratify, that resentment, though na- turally raised. It would be endless to descend into and explain all the peculiarities of perverseness and wayward humour which might be traced up to this passion. But there is one thing, which so generally belongs to and accompanies all excess and abuse of it, as to require being mentioned: a certain determination, and resolute bent of mind not to be convinced or set right; though it be ever so plain, that there is no reason for the displeasure, that it was raised merely by error or misunderstanding. In this there is doubtless a great mixture of pride; but there is somewhat more, which I cannot otherwise express, than that resentment has taken possession of the temper and of the m^ind, and will not quit its hold. It would be too minute to inquire whether this be any thing more than bare obstinacy: it is sufficient to observe, that it, in a very particular manner and degree, belongs to the abuses of this passion. But, notwithstanding all these abuses, "Is not just in- dignation against cruelty and wrong one of the instru- meiits of deatli, which the Author of our nature hath pro- vided.^ Are not cruelty, injustice, and wrong, the natural objects of that indignation? Surely then it may one way or other be innocently employed against them." True. Since therefore it is necessary for the very sub- sistence of the world, that injury, injustice, and cruelty, should be punished; and since compassion, which is so natural to mankind, would render that execution of jus- tice exceedingly difficult and uneasy; indignation against vice and wickedness is, and may be allowed to be, a balance to that weakness of pity, and also to any thing else which would prevent the necessary methods of seve- rity. Those who have never thought upon these sub- jects, may perhaps not see the weight of this: but let us suppose a person guilty of murder, or any other action of cruelty, and that mankind Rad naturally no indigna- tion against such wickedness and the authors of it; but that every body was affected towards such a criminal in the same way as towards an innocent man: compassion, amongst other tilings, would render the execution of jus- G 2 100 UPON RESENTMENT. [Seb. VIH. tice exceedingly painful and difficult, and would often quite prevent it. And notwithstanding that the principle of benevolence is denied by some and is really in a very low degree, that men are in great measure insensible to the happiness of their fellow creatures; yet they are not insensible to their misery, but are very strongly moved with it: insomuch that there plainly is occasion for that feeling, which is raised by guilt and demerit, as a balance to that of compassion. Thus much may, I think, justly be allowed to resentment, in the strictest way of moral consideration. The good influence which this passion has in fact upon the affairs of the world, is obvious to every one's notice. Men are plainly restrained from injuring their fellow creatures by fear of their resentment; and it is very happy that they are so, when they would not be restrained by a principle of virtue. And after an injury is done, and there is a necessity that the off'ender should be brought to justice; the cool consideration of reason, that the security and peace of society requires examples of justice should be made, might indeed be sufficient to procure laws to be enacted, and sentence passed: but is it that cool reflection in the injured person, which, for the most part, brings the ofl'ender to justice? Or is it not resentment and indignation against the injury and the author of it.^^ I am afraid there is no doubt, which is commonly the case. This however is to be considered as a good effect, notwithstanding it were much to be wished that men would act from a better principle, reason and cool reflection. The account now given of the passion of resentment, as distinct from all the abuses of it, may suggest to our thoughts the following reflections. First, That vice is indeed of ill desert, and must finally be punished. Why should men dispute concerning the reality of virtue, and whether it be founded in the nature of things, which yet sufely is not matter of question; but why should this, I say, be disputed, when every man carries about him this passion, which afl'ords him de- monstration, that the rules of justice and equity are to be the guide of his actions ? For every man naturally fta, rX.J UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 101 feels an indignation upon seeing instances of ^^^anv and baseness, and therefore cannot commit the same without being self-condemned. Secondly, That we should learn to be cautious, lest we charge God foolishly, by ascribing that to him, or the nature he has given us, which is owing wholly to our own abuse of it. Men may speak of the degeneracy and corruption of the world, according to tlie experience they have had of it; but human nature, considered as the di- vine workmanship, should m.ethinks be treated as sacred: for in the image of God made he man. That passion, from whence men take occasion to run into the dreadful vices of malice and revenge; even that passion, as im- planted in our nature by God, is not only innocent, but a generous movement of mind. It is in itself, and in its original, no more than indignation against injury and wickedness: that which is the only deformity in the crea- tion, and the only reasonable object of abhorrence and dislike. How manifold evidence have we of the divine wisdom and goodness, when even pain in the natural world, and the passion we have been now considering in the moral, come out instances of it! SERMON IX. UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES, Ye have heard that it hath been said, T7iou shalt love tJiy neigh bow ^ and hate thine enemy : but I say unto you. Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you. — MutU v 43, 44. As God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders, both natural and moral, which would happen in this state of things; he hath graciously made some provision against them, by giving us several passions and aflfec- tions, which arise from, or whose objects arp. tliose disorders. Of this sort are fear, resentment, compAssion, and others; of which there could be no occasion or use 102 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [Ser. IX. in a perfect state : but in the present we should be ex- posed to greater inconveniences without them; though there are very considerable ones, which they themselves are the occasions of. They are encumbrances indeed, but such as we are obliged to carry about with us, through this various journey of life: some of them as a guard against the violent assaults of others, and in our own de- fence; some in behalf of others; and all of them to put us upon, and help to carry us through a course of beha- viour suitable to our condition, in default of that perfec- tion of wisdom and virtue, which would be in all respects our better security. The passion of anger or resentment hath already been largely treated of. It hath been shown, that mankind naturally feel some emotion of mind against injury and injustice, whoever are the sufferers by it; and even though the injurious design be prevented from taking effect. Let this be called anger, indignation, resentment, or by whatever name any one shall choose; the thing itself is understood, and is plainly natural. It has like- wise been observed, that this natural indignation is gene- rally moderate and low enough in mankind, in each particular man, when the injury which excites it doth not affect himself, or one whom he considers as himself. Therefore the precepts to forgive^ and to love our enemieSj do not relate to that general indignation against injury and the authors of it, but to this feeling, or resentment when raised by private or personal injury. But no man could be thought in earnest, who should assert, that, though indignation against injury, when others are the sufferers, is innocent and just; yet the same indignation against it, when we ourselves are the sufferers, becomes faulty and blameable. These precepts therefore cannot be understood to forbid this in the latter case, more than in the former. Nay they cannot be understood to forbid this feeling in the latter case, though raised to a higher degree than in the former: because, as was also observed further, from the very constitution of our nature, we can- not but have a greater sensibility to what concerns our- selves. Therefore the precepts in the text, and others of the like import with them, must be understood to for- So. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 103 bid only the excess and abuse of this natural feeling, in cases of personal and private injury: the chief instances of which excess and abuse have likewise been already remarked; and all of them, excepting that of retaliation, do so plainly in the very terms express somewhat un- reasonable, disproportionate, and absurd, as to admit of no pretence or shadow of justification. But since custom and false honour are on the side of retahation and revenge, when the resentment is natural and just ; and reasons are sometimes offered in justifica- tion of revenge in these cases; and since love of our enemies is thought too hard a saying to be obeyed; I will show the absolute unlawfulness of the former ; the ohliga- Hons ice are under to the latter; and then proceed to some refect ions J which may have a more direct and immediate tendency to heyet in us a right temper of mind towards those who have offended us. In showing the unlawfulness of revenge, it is not my present design to examine what is alleged in favour of it, from the tyranny of custom and false honour, but only to consider the nature and reason of the thing itself; which ought to have prevented, and ought now to extir- pate, every thing of that kind. First, Let us begin with the supposition of that being innocent, which is pleaded for, and which shall be shown to be altogether vicious, the supposition that we were allowed to render evil for evily and see what would be the consequence. Malice or resentment towards any man hath phiinly a tendency to beget tlie same passion in him who is the object of it; and this again increases it in the other. It is of the very nature of this vice to propagate itself, not only by way of example, which it does in common with other vices, but in a peculiar way of its own; for resentment itself, as well as what is done in consequence of it, is the object of resentment: hence it comes to pass, that the first offence, even when so slight as presently to be dropped and forgotten, becomes the occasion of entering into a long intercoin*se of ill offices: neither is it at all uncommon to see persons, iu this progress of strife and variance, change parts: and Lim, who was at first tlie injured person, become more 104 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. ^Ser. IX. injurious and blameable than the aggressor. Put the case then, that the law of retahation was universally received,, and allowed, as an innocent rule of life, by all; and the observance of it thought by many (and then it would soon come to be thought by all) a point of honour: this supposes every man in private cases to pass sentence in his own cause; and likewise, that anger or resentment is to be the judge. Thus, from the numberless partia- lities which we all have for ourselves, every one would often think himself injured when he was not: and in most cases would represent an injury as much greater than it really is ; tlie imagined dignity of the person of- fended would scarce ever fail to magnify the offence. And, if bare retaliation, or returning just the mischief received, always begets resentment in the person upon whom we retaliate, what would that excess do ? Add to this, that he likewise has his partialities — there is no going on to represent this scene of rage and madness: it is manifest there would be no bounds, nor any end. If the beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water ^ what would it come to when allowed this free and unre- strained course. As coals are to burning coals, or wood to fire ; so would these contentious men be to kindle strife. And, since the indulgence of revenge hath manifestly this tendency, and does actually produce these effects in proportion as it is allowed; a passion of so dangerous a nature ought not to be indulged, were there no other reason against it. Secondly, It hath been shown that the passion of re- sentment was placed in man, upon supposition of, and as a prevention or remedy to, irregularity and disorder. Now whether it be allowed or not, that the passion itself and the gratification of it joined together are painful to the malicious person; it must however be so with re- spect to the person towards Avhom it is exercised, and upon whom the revenge is taken. Now, if we consider mankind, according to that fine allusion of St Paul, as one body, and every one members one of another; it must be allowed that resentment is, with respect to society, a painful remedy. Thus then the very notion or idea of this passion, as a remedy or prevention of evil, Deb. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 105 and as in itself a painful means, plainly shows that it ought never to be made use of, but only in order to pro- duce some greater good. It is to be observed, that this argument is not founded upon an allusion or simile ; but that it is drawn from the very nature of the passion itself, and the end for which it was given us. We are obliged to make use of words taken from sensible things, to explain w^hat is the most remote from them: and every one sees from whence the words Prevention and Remedy are taken. But, if you please, let these words be dropped : the thing itself, I suppose, may be expressed without them. That mankind is a community, that we all stand in a relation to each other, that there is a public end and in- terest of society which each particular is obliged to pro- mote, is the sum of morals. Consider then the passion of resentment, as given to this one body, as given to so- ciety. Nothing can be more manifest, than that resent- ment is to be considered as a secondary passion, placed in us upon supposition, upon account of, and with regard to, injury ; not, to be sure, to promote and further it, but to render it, and the inconveniences and miseries arising from it, less and fewer than they would be without this passion. It is as manifest, that the indulgence of it is, with regard to society, a painful means of obtaining these ends. Considered in itself, it is very undesirable, and what so- ciety must very much wish to be without. It is in every instance absolutely an evil in itself, because it implies pro- ducing misery: and consequently must never be indulged or gratified for itself, by any one who considers mankind as a community or family, and himself as a member of it. Let us now take this in another view. Every natural appetite, passion, and affection, may be gratified in par- ticular instances, without being subservient to the parti- cular chief end, for which these several principles were respectively implanted in our nature. And, if neither this end, nor any other moral obligation, be contradicted, such gratification is innocent. Thus, I suppose, there are cases in which each of these principles, this one of resentment excepted, may innocently be gratified, with- out being subservient to what is the main end of it : that 105 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. {Seb. lY. is, though it does not conduce to, yet it may be gratified without contradicting, that end, or any other obhgation. But the gratification of resentment, if it be not conducive to the end for which it was given us, must necessarily contradict, not only the general obhgation to benevo- lence, but hkewise that particular end itself. The end, for which it was given, is to prevent or remedy injury, i. e. the misery occasioned by injury ; u e. misery itself; and the gratification of it consists in producing misery ; i. e, in contradicting the end for which it was implanted in our nature. This whole reasoning is built upon the difference there is between this passion and all others. No other prin- ciple, or passion, hath for its end the misery of our fel- low creatures. But malice and revenge meditates evil itself ; and to do mischief, to be the author of misery, is the very thing which gratifies the passion : this is what it directly tends towards, as its proper design. Other vices eventually do mischief : this alone aims at it as an end. Nothing can with reason be urged in justification of revenge, from the good effects which the indulgence of it were before mentioned * to have upon the affairs of the world ; because, though it be a remarkable instance of the wisdom of Providence to bring good out of evil, yet vice is vice to hint^ who is guilty of it. " But sup- pose these good effects are foreseen :" that is, sup- pose reason in a particular case leads a man the same way as passion ? Why then, to be sure, he should follow his reason, in this as well as in all other cases. So that, turn the matter which way ever you will, no more can be allowed to this passion, than what hath been already.! As to that love of our enemies, which is commanded; this supposes the general obligation to benevolence or good-will towards mankind: and this being supposed, that precept is no more than to forgive injuries ; that is, to keep clear of those abuses before mentioned : because that we have the habitual temper of benevolence is taken for granted. Resentment is not inconsistent with good-will; for we * Smn. VIII. p. 100. + Ibid. p. 99. Ser.ix.] upon forgiveness of injuries. 107 often see both together in very high degrees ; not only in parents towards their children, but in cases of friendship and dependence, where there is no natural relation. These contrary passions, though they may lessen, do not necessarily destroy each other. We may therefore love our enemy, and yet have resentment against him for his injurious behaviour towards us. But when this resentment entirely destroys our natural bene- volence towards him, it is excessive, and becomes malice or revenge. The command to prevent its having this effect, i, e. to forgive injuries, is the same as to love our enemies ; because that love is always supposed, un- less destroyed by resentment. " But though mankind is the natural object of bene- volence, yet may it not be lessened upon vice, i, e. in- jury.^" Allowed: but if every degree of vice or injury must destroy that benevolence, then no man is the object of our love ; for no man is without faults. *^But if lower instances of injury may lessen our benevolence, why may not higher, or the highest, destroy it.^^" The answer is obvious. It is not man's being a social creature, much less his being a moral agent, from whence alone our obligations to good-will towards him arise. There is an obligation to it prior to either of these, arising from his being a sensible creature ; that is, cap- able of happiness or misery. Now this obligation can- not be superseded by his moral character. What justi- fies public executions is, not tliat the guilt, or demerit of the criminal dispenses with the obligation of good-will, neither would this justify any severity; but, that his life is inconsistent with the quiet and happiness of the world: that is, a general and more enlarged obligation neces- sarily destroys a particular and more confined one of the same kind inconsistent with it. Guilt or injury then does not dispense with or supersede the duty of love and good-will. Neither does that peculiar regard to ourselves, which was before allowed to be natural* to mankind, dispense with it: because that can no way innocently heighten our resentment against those v/ho have been injurious ♦ Scrni. VIII. P- 90. 108 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [Skr. IX. to ourselves in particular, any otherwise than as it heightens our sense of the injury or guilt; and guilt, though in the highest degree, does not, as hath been shown, dispense with or supersede the duty of love and good-wull. If all this be true, what can a man say, who will dis- pute the reasonableness, or the possibility, of obeying the divine precept we are now considering ? Let him speak out, and it must be thus he will speak. " Man- kind, i. e. a creature defective and faulty, is the proper object of good- will, whatever his faults are, when they respect others ; but not when they respect me myself." That men should be affected in this manner, and act ac- cordingly, is to be accounted for like other vices ; but to assert that it ought, and must be thus, is self-partiality possessed of the very understanding. Thus love to our enemies, and those who have been injurious to us, is so far from being a rant, as it has been profanely called, that it is in truth the law of our nature, and what every one must see and own, who is not quite blinded wdth self-love. From hence it is easy to see, what is the degree in which we are commanded to love our enemies, or those who have been injurious to us. It were well if it could as easily be reduced to practice. It cannot be imagined, that we are required to love them with any pecuhar kind of affection. But suppose the person injured to have a due natural sense of the injury, and no more; he ought to be affected towards the injurious person in the same way any good men, uninterested in the case, w^ould be ; if they had the same just sense, which we have supposed the injured person to have, of the fault: after which there will yet remain real good-will towards the offender. Now what is there in all this, which should be thought impracticable.^ I am sure there is nothing in it unreasonable. It is indeed no more than that we should not indulge a passion, which, if generally indulged, would propagate itself so as almost to lay w^aste the world : that we should suppress that partial, that false self-love, which is the weakness of our nature ; that un- easmess and misery should not be produced, without any Sbb. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 109 good purpose to be served by it: and that we should not be affected towards persons differently from what their nature and character require. But since to be convinced that any temper of mind, and course of behaviour, is our duty, and the contrary vicious, hath but a distant influence upon our temper and actions; let me add some few reflections, which may have a more direct tendency to subdue those vices in the heart, to beget in us this right temper, and lead us to a right behaviour towards those who have off'ended us: which reflections however shall be such as will further show the obligations we are under to it. No one, I suppose, would choose to have an indignity put upon him, or to be injuriously treated. If then there be any probability of a misunderstanding in the case, either from our imagining we are injured when we are not, or representing the injury to ourselves as greater than it really is; one would hope an intimation of this sort might be kindly received, and that people would be glad to find the injury not so great as they imagined. Therefore, without knowing particulars, I take upon me to assure all persons who think they have received in- dignities or injurious treatment, that they may depend upon it, as in a manner certain, that the offence is not so great as they themselves imagine. We are in such a peculiar situation, with respect to injuries done to our- selves, that we can scarce any more see them as they really are, than our eye can see itself. If we could place ourselves at a due distance, i. c. be really unprejudiced, we should frequently discern that to be in reality inad- vertence and mistake in our enemy, which we now fancy we see to be malice or scorn. From this proper point of view, we should likewise in all probability see something of these latter in ourselves, and most certainly a great deal of the former. Thus the indignity or injury would almost infinitely lessen, and perhaps at last come out to be nothing at all. Self-love is a medium of a peculiar kind; in these cases it magnifies every thing which is amiss in others, at the same time that it lessens every thing amiss in ourselves. Anger also or hatred may be considered as another 1 10 ItPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [Sbr. IX. false medium of viewing things, which always represents characters and actions much worse than they really are. Ill-will not only never speaks, but never thinks well, of the person towards whom it is exercised. Thus in cases of offence and enmity, the whole character and behaviour is considered with an eye to that particular part which has offended us, and the whole man appears monstrous, without any thing right or human in him: whereas the resentm.ent should surely at least be confined to that particular part of the behaviour which gave offence: since the other parts of a man's life and character stand just the same as they did before. In general, there are very few instances of enmity carried to any length, but inadvertency, misunderstand- ing, some real mistake of the case, on one side however, if not on both, has a great share in it. If these things were attended to, these ill-humours could not be carried to any length amongst good men, and they would be exceedingly abated amongst all. And one would hope they might be attended to: for all that these cautions come to is really no more than desir- ing, that things may be considered and judged of as they are in themselves, that we should have an eye to, and beware of, what would otherwise lead us into mistakes. So that to make allowances for inadvertence, misunder- standing, for the partialities of self-love, and the false light which anger sets things in ; I say, to make allow- ances for these, is not to be spoken of as an instance of humbleness of mind, or meekness and moderation of temper; but as what common sense should suggest, to avoid judging wrong of a matter before us, though virtue and morals were out of the case. And therefore it as much belongs to ill men, who will indulge the vice I have been arguing against, as to good men, who en- deavour to subdue it in themselves. In a word, all these cautions, concerning anger and self-love, are no more than desiring a man, who was looking through a glass, which either magnified or lessened, to take notice, that the objects are not in themselves what they appear through that medium. To all these tilings one might add, that, resentment Seh. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. Ill being out of the case, there is not, properly speaking, any such thing as direct ill-will in one man towards another: therefore the first indignity or injury, if it be not owing to inadvertence or misunderstanding, may however be resolved into other particular passions or self-love : principles quite distinct from ill-will, and which we ought all to be disposed to excuse in others, from experiencing so m.uch of them in ourselves. A great man of antiquity is reported to have said, that, as he never was indulgent to any one fault in himself, he could not excuse those of others. This sentence could scarce with decency come out of the mouth of any human creature. But if we invert the former part, and put it thus : that he was indulgent to i»any faults in himself, as it is to be feared the best of us are, and yet was im- placable; how monstrous would such an assertion appear! And this is the case in respect to every human creature, in proportion as he is without the forgiving spirit I have been recommending. Further, though injury, injustice, oppression, the base- ness of ingratitude, are the natural objects of indignation, or if you please of resentment, as before explained; yet they are likewise the objects of compassion, as they are their own punishment, and without repentance will for ever be so. No one ever did a designed injury to another, but at the same time he did a much greater to himself. If therefore we would consider things justly, such a one is, according to the natural course of our affections, an object of compassion, as well as of displeasure: and to be affected really in this manner, I say really, in op- position to show and pretence, argues the true greatness of mind. We have an example of forgiveness in this way in its utmost perfection, and which indeed includes in it all that is good, in that prayer of our blessed Saviour on the cross: Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. But lastly. The offences which we are all guilty of against God, and the injuries which men do to each other, are often mentioned together: and, making allowances for the infinite distance between the Majesty of Heaven, and a frail mortal, and likewise for this, that he cannot pos- 1 12 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [Skr. IX. sibly be affected or moved as we are ; offences committed by others against ourselves, and the manner in which we are apt to be affected with them, give a real occasion for calling to mind our own sins against God. Now there is an apprehension and presentiment, natural to mankind, that we ourselves shall one time or other be dealt with as we deal with others; and a peculiar acquiescence in, and feeling of, the equity and justice of this equal distribution. This natural notion of equity the son of Sirach has put in the strongest way. He that revengeth shall find ven^ geance from the Lordj and he will surely keep his sins in remembrance. Forgive thy neighbour the hurt he hath done unto thee, so shall thy sins be forgiven when thou prayest. One man beareth hatred*against another; and doth he seek pardon from the Lord? He sheweth no mercy to a man ichich is like himself; and doth he ask forgiveness of his own sins?* Let any one read our Saviour's parable of the king loho took account of his servants ;\ and the equity and rightness of the sentence which was passed upon him who was unmerciful to his fellow servant, will be felt. There is somewhat in human nature, which accords to and falls in with that method of determination. Let us then place before our eyes the time which is repre- sented in the parable ; that of our own death, or the final judgment. Suppose yourselves under the apprehensions of approaching death j that you were just going to appear naked and without disguise before the Judge of all tlio earth, to give an account of your behaviour towards your fellow creatures: could any thing raise more dreadful apprehensions of that judgment, than the reflection that you had been implacable, and without mercy towards those who had offended you: without that forgiving spirit towards others, which that it may now be exercised towards yourselves, is your only hopeP And these natural apprehensions are authorized by our Saviour's application of the parable : ^o likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses. On the other hand, suppose a good man in the same circumstance, in the last part and close of life; conscious of many frailties, * Ecclus. xxviii. 1 — 4. f Matt, xviii. 5331. X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 113 as the best are, but conscious too that he had been meek, forgiving, and merciful; that he had in siinpHcity of heart been ready to pass over offences against him- self : the having felt this good spirit will give him, not only a full view of the amiableness of it, but the surest hope that he shall meet with it in his Judge. This like- wise is confirmed by his own declaration: If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will likewise forgive you. And that we might have a constant sense of it upon our mind, the condition is expressed in our daily prayer. A forgiving spirit is therefore absolutely necessary, as ever we hope for pardon of our own sins, as ever we hope for peace of mind in our dying mo- ments, or for the divine mercy at that day when we shall most stand in need of it. SERMON X UPON SELF-DECEIT. And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man. — 2 Sam. xii. 7 These words are the application of Nathan's parable to David, upon occasion of his adultery with Bathsheba, and the murder of Uriah her husband. The parable, which is related in the most beautiful simplicity, is this: *T/tere ice re two men in one city ; the one rich and the other ])Oor, The rich man had exceeding many focks and herds : hut the poor man had nothing, save one little cxoe- lamb, which he had bought and nourished up : and it grew up together icith him, and with his children; it did cat oj his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto hi/n as a daughter. And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own fiock, and of his own herd, to dress for the way -faring man that urns come unto him, bat look the poor mans lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him. And David's anger was greatly kindled against the man, and he * Vrr. 1. li 114 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [Sek. X. said to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this tiling shall surely die. And he shall restore the lamb four -fold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity. David passes sentence, not only that there should be a fourfold restitution made; but he proceeds to the rigour of justice, the man that hath done this thing shall die: and this judgment is pronounced with the utmost indignation against such an act of inhumanity; As the Lord llveth, he shall surely die ; and his anger was greatly kindled against the man. And the prophet answered, Thou art the man. He had been guilty of much greater inhumanity, with the utmost deliberation, thought, and contrivance. Near a year must have passed, between the time of the commission of his crimes, and the time of the prophet's coming to him; and it does not appear from the story, that he had in all this while the least re- morse or contrition. There is net any thing, relating to men and characters, more surprising and unaccountable, than this partiality to themselves, which is observable in many; as there is nothing of more melancholy reflection, respecting mora- lity, virtue, and religion. Hence it is that many men seem perfect strangers to their own characters. They think, and reason, and judge quite differently upon any matter relating to themselves, from what they do in cases^ of others where they are not interested. Hence it is one hears people exposing follies, which they themselves are eminent for; and talking with great severity against par- ticular vices, which, if all the world be not mistaken, they themselves are notoriously guilty of. This self- ignorance and self-partiality may be in all different de- grees. It is a lower degree of it which David himself refers to in the se words. Who can tell hoio oft he offendcth ? O cleanse thou me from my secret faults. This is the ground of that advice of Elihu to Job: Surely it is meet to be said unto God, — That which I see not, teach thou me ; if I have done iniquity, I will do no more. And Solomon saw this thing in a very strong light, when he said. He that trusteth his own heart is a fool. This likewise was the reason why that precept, Know thyself, was so fre- quently inculcated by the philosophers of old. For if it Se:i. X ] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 115 were not for that partial and fond regard to ourselves, it would certainly be no great difficulty to know our own character, what passes within the bent and bias of our mind; much less would there be any difficulty in judging rightly of our own actions. But from this partiality it frequently comes to pass, that the observation of many men's being themselves last of all acquainted with what falls out in their own famihes, may be applied to a nearer home, to what passes within their own breasts. There is plainly, in the generality of mankind, an ab- sence of doubt or distrust, in a very great measure, as to their moral character and behaviour; and likewise a dis- position to take for granted, that all is right and well with them in thpse respects. The former is owing to their not reflecting, not exercising their judgment upon themselves; the latter, to self-love. I am not speaking of that extravagance, which is sometimes to be met with; instances of persons declaring in words at length, that they never were in the wrong, nor had ever any diffi- dence of the justness of their conduct, in their whole lives. No, these people are too far gone to have any thing said to them. The thing before us is indeed of this kind, but in a lower degree, and confined to the moral character; somewhat of which we almost all of us have, without reflecting upon it. Now consider, how long and how grossly, a person of the best understanding might be imposed upon by one of whom he had not any suspicion, and in whom he placed an entire confidence ; especially if there were friendship and real kindness in the case; surely this holds even stronger with respect to that self we are all so fond of. Hence arises in men a disregard of reproof and instruction, rules of conduct and moral discipline, which occasionally come in their way: a disregard, I say, of these; not in every respect, but in this single one, namely, as what may be of service to them in particular towards mending their own hearts and tempers, and making them better men. It never in earnest comes into their thoughts, whether such admo- nitions may not relate, and be of service to themselves, and this quite distinct from a positive persuasion to the contrary, a persuasion from reflection that they are in- n 2 116 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [Skr. X. nocent and blameless in those respects. Thus we may invert the observation which is somewhere made upon Brutus, that he never read, but in order to make himself a better man. It scarce comes into the thoughts of the generality of mankind, that this use is to be made of moral reflections which they meet with; that this use, I say, is to be made of them by themselves, for every body observes and wonders that it is not done by others. Further, there are instances of persons having so fixed and steady an eye upon their own interest, whatever they place it in, and the interest of those whom they consider as themselves, as in a manner to regard nothing else ; their views are almost confined to this alone. Now we cannot be acquainted with, or in ^any propriety of speech be said to know any thing, but what we attend to. If therefore they attend only to one side, they really will not, cannot see or know what is to be alleged on the other. Though a man hath the best eyes in the world, he cannot see any way but that which he turns them. Thus these persons, without passing over the least, the most minute thing, which can possibly be urged in fa- vour of themselves, shall overlook entirely the plainest and most obvious things on the other side. And whilst they are under the power of this temper, thought and consideration upon the matter before them has scarce any tendency to set them right: because they are en- gaged; and their deliberation concerning an action to be done, or reflection upon it afterwards, is not to see whe- ther it be right, but to find out reasons to justify or pal- liate it; palhate it, not to others, but to themselves. In some there is to be observed a general ignorance of themselves, and wrong way of thinking and judging in every thing relating to themselves; their fortune, re- putation, every thing in which self can come in: and this perhaps attended with the rightest judgment in all other matters. In others this partiality is not so general, has not taken hold of the whole man, but is confined to some particular favourite passion, interest, or pursuit; suppose ambition, covetousness, or any other. And these per- sons may probably judge and determine what is perfectly just and proper, even in things in which they themselves Skb. X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 117 are concerned, if these things have no relation to their particular favourite passion^ or pursuit. Heiice arises that amazing incongruity, and seeming inconsistency of character, from whence shght observers take it for granted, that the whole is hypocritical and false; not being able otherwise to reconcile the several parts: whereas in truth there is real honesty, so far as it goes. There is such a thing as men's being honest to such a degree, and in such respects, but no further. And this, as it is true, so it is absolutely necessary to be taken notice of, and allowed them; such general and undis- tinguishing censure of their whole character, as designing and false, being one main thing which confirms them in their self-deceit. They know that the whole censure is not true; and so take for granted that no part of it is. But to go on with the explanation of the thing itself: Vice in general consists in having an unreasonable and too great regard to ourselves, in comparison of others. Robbery and murder is never from the love of injustice or cruelty, but to gratify some other passion, to gain some supposed advantage: and it is false selfishness alone, whether cool or passionate, which makes a man resolutely pursue that end, be it ever so much to the injury of another. But whereas, in common and ordi- nary wickedness, this unreasonableness, this partiality and selfishness, relates only, or chiefly, to the temper and passions, in the characters we are now considering, it reaches to the understanding, and influences the very judgment.* And, besides that general want of distrust and diffidence concerning our own character, there are, * That peculiar retranl for ourselves which frequently produces this pariialiiy of judgment in our own favour, may have a qmip contrary effect, niul ocGision the utmost diffivlence and distrust of oui-s< lves; were it only, as it n:ay set us u|>on a more frequent antl strict siirvry anil n vit w of our own rlianirter and behaviour. This searcJi or rtcolleciion iLvlf unplies somewhat of diffidence ; and ihr (lisct)\ rries wh make, what iN broti£>^ht to our vi< w, m;iy possibly increjis*' it. (iiKxl will lo anotJier may either blind our judfrm* nt, so as to make us ovt riook liis faul»» ; or it may put lis \i\>oi\ exercisinjT Dial judgmt ul witli greater strictness, to see whelhiT h»- is so faultU-ss and perfi ct as we wish him. If that peculiar reganl to ourst lves 1« atls us to exAmint- our own chararter with this rrenter sev« rily, in onU r n-jilly lo improre and grow In-tler, it is the ino^t comnieniK^ible turn of min«l pt>vsil.le, and nm scnrce br to f xct ss. But if, evrry thint; hath its coiinl< rf« ii. \\r are so nuich einph»yed .-.bout ours» lves in onl« r lo d.^rju se what is an> ss. nnd t»» tjink'- a bi lti r ap[>ranitiOP ; or if our atU'nlion to ourN« lvt i» h]u> ciiii fly this elTict ; it is lialUi- Ut nui uf) into the u" )iiri tsl^LF- DECEIT. ,'SEa. X. One is, to substitute another for yourself, when you take a survey of any part of your behaviour, or consider what is proper and fit and reasonable for you to do upon anv occasion: the other part is, that you substitute yourse.? in t]ie room of another; consider yourself as the person affected by such a behaviour, or towards whom such an action is done: and then you would not only see, but likewise feel, the reasonableness or unreasonableness of such an action or behaviour. But, alas! the rule itself maybe dishonestly applied: there are persons who have not impartiality enough with respect to themselves, nor regard enough for others, to be able to make a just ap- plication of it. This just application, if men would honestly make it, is in effect all that I have been recom- mending; it is the whole thing, the direct contrary to that inward dishonesty as respecting our intercourse with our fellow creatures. And even the bearing this rule in their thoughts may be of some service; the at- tempt thus to apply it, is an attempt tow^ards being fair and impartial, and may chance unawares to show them to themselves, to show them the truth of the case they are considering. Upon the whole it is manifest, that there is such a thing as this self-partiality and self-deceit: that in some •persons it is to a degree which would be thought incre- dible, were not the instances before our eyes; of which the behaviour of David is perhaps the highest possible one, in a single particular case; for there is not the least appearance, that it reached his general character: that we are almost all of us influenced by it in some degree, and in some respects: that therefore every one ought to have an eye to and beware of it. And all that I have further to add upon this subject is, that either there is a difference between right and wrong, or there is not: religion is true, or it is not. If it be not, there is no reason for any concern about it: but if it be true, it re- quires real fairness of mind and honesty of heart. And, if people will be wicked, they had better ^f the two be so from the common vicious passions without such re- finements, than from this deep and calm source of delu- sion; which undermines the whole principle of good; 5er. XI.] UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 125 darkens that light, that candle of the Lord within^ ^hich is to direct our steps; and corrupts conscience, which is the guide of hfe. SERMON XI. UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR, PREACHED ON ADVENT SCNDAY. And if there be any other commandment^ it is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, TJiou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. — Rom. xiii. 9. It is commonly, observed, that there is a disposition in men to complain of the viciousness and corruption of the age in which they live, as greater than that of former ones; which is usually followed with this further obser- vation, that mankind has been in that respect much the same in all times. Now, not to determine whether this last be not contradicted by the accounts of history; thus much can scarce be doubted, that vice and folly takes different turns, and some particular kinds of it are more open and avowed in some ages than in others: and, I suppose, it may be spoken of as very much the distinc- tion of the present to profess a contracted spirit, and greater regards to self-interest, than appears to have been done formerly. Upon this account it seems worth while to inquire, whether private interest is likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles; or whether the contracted affection may not possibly be so pre^ valent as to disappoint itself and even contradict its own end, private good. And since, further, there is generally thought to be some peculiar kind of contrariety between self-love and the love of our neighbour, between the pursuit of public and of private good; insomuch that when you are re- commending one of these, you are supposed to be speak- ing against the other; and from hence arises a secret prejudice against, and frequently open scorn of all talk of public spirit, and real good-will to our fellow crea- 126 UPON THE LOVE OF TSer. Xf. tures ; it will be necessary to inquire what respect benevo^ lence hath to self -love ^ and the pursuit of private interest to the pursuit of public: or whether there be any tiling of that pecuhar inconsistence and contrariety between them, over and above what there is between self-love and other passions and particular affections, and their respective pursuits. These inquiries, it is hoped, may be favourably at- tended to: for there shall be all possible concessions made to the favourite passion, which hath so much al- lowed to it, and whose cause is so universally pleaded: it shall be treated with the utmost tenderness and con- cern for its interests. In order to this, as well as to determine the foremen- tioned questions, it will be necessary to consider the na- turCy the object, and end of that self-love, as distinguished from other principles or affections in the mind, and their respective objects. Every man hath a general desire of his own happi- ness ; and likewise a variety of particular affections, pas- sions, and appetites to particular external objects. The former proceeds from, or is self-love; and seems inse- parable from all sensible creatures, who can reflect upon themselves and their own interest or happiness, so as to have that interest an object to their minds: what is to be said of the latter is, that they proceed from, or together make up that particular nature, according to which man is made. The object the former pursues is somewhat internal, our own happiness, enjoyment, satisfaction; whether we have, or have not, a distinct particular per- ception what it is, or wherein it consists: the objects of the latter are this or that particular external thing, which the affections tend towards, and of which it hath always a particular idea or perception. The principle we call self-love never seeks any thing external for the sake of I he thing, but only as a means of happiness or good: particular affections rest in the external things them- selves. One belongs to man as a reasonable creature reflecting upon his own interest or happiness. The other, though quite distinct from reason, are as much a part of human nature. Ser. Xl.j OXJR NEIGHBOUR. 12? Tliat all particular appetites and passions are towards external things themselves, distinct from the pleasure aris- ing from thcMy is manifested from hence; that there could not be this pleasure, were it not for that prior suitableness between the object and the passion: there could be no enjoyment or delight from one thing more than another, from eating food more than from swallow- ing a stone, if there were not an affection or appetite to one thing more than another. Every particular affection, even the love of our neigh- bour, is as really our own affection, as self-love; and the pleasure arising from its gratification is as much my own pleasure, as the pleasure self-love would have, from knowing I myself should be happy some time hence, would be my own pleasure. And if, because every par- ticular affection is a man's own, and the pleasure arising from its gratification his own pleasure, or pleasure to himself, such particular affection must be called self-love; according to this way of speaking, no creature whatever can possibly act but merely from self-love ; and every action and every affection whatever is to be resolved up into this one principle. But then this is not the language of mankind: or if it were, we should w^ant words to express the difference, between the principle of an action, proceeding from cool consideration that it will be to my own advantage; and an action, suppose of revenge, or of friendship, by which a man runs upon certain ruin, to do evil or good to another. It is mani- fest the principles of these actions are totally different, and so w^ant different words to be distinguished by : all that they agree in is, that they both proceed from, and are done to gratify an inclination in a man's self. But the principle or inclination in one case is self-love : in the other, hatred or love of another. There is then a distinction between the cool principle of self-love, or general desire of our own hap|)incss, as one part of our nature, and one principle of action ; and the particular affections towards particular external objects, as another part of our nature, and another ])rinciple of action. How much soever therefore is to be allowed to self-love, yet it cannobbe allowed to be the wlioli* ot <>ur inward con- 128 UPON THE LOVE OF [Seb. XI. stitution ; because, you see, there are other parts or prin- ciples which come into it. Further, private happiness or good is all which self- love can make us desire, or be concerned about: in hav- ing this consists its gratification ; it is an affection to our- selves ; a regard to our own interest, happiness, and private good : and in the proportion a man hath this, he is interested, or a lover of himself. Let this be kept in rcind ; because there is commonly, as I shall presently have occasion to observe, another sense put upon these words. On the other hand, particular affections tend towards particular external things: these are their ob- jects: having these is their end: in this consists their gratification: no matter whether it be, or be not, upon the whole, our interest or happiness. An action done from the former of these principles is called an interest- ed action. An action proceeding from any of the latter has its denomination of passionate, ambitious, friendly, revengeful, or any other, from the particular appetite or affection from which it proceeds. Thus self-love as one part of human nature, and the several particular princi- ples as the other part, are, themselves, their objects and ends, stated and shown. From hence it will be easy to see, how far, and in what ways, each of these can contribute and be subser- vient to the private good of the individual. Happiness does not consist in self-love. The desire of happiness is no more the ^hing itself, than the desire of riches is the possession or enjoyment of them. People may love themselves with the most entire and unbounded affection, and yet be extremely miserable. Neither can self-love any way help them out, but by setting them on work to get rid of the causes of their misery, to gain or make use of those objects which are by nature adapted to af- ford satisfaction. Happiness or satisfaction consists only in the enjoyment of those objects, which are by na- ture suited to our several particular appetites, passions, and affections. So that if self-love wholly engrosses us, and leaves no room for any other principle, there can be absolutely no such thing at all as happiness., or enjoy- ment of any kind whatever; since happiness consists in Spr. XL] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 129 the gratification of particular passions, which supposes the having of them. Self-love then does not constitute this or that to be our interest or good ; but, our interest or good being constituted by nature and supposed, self- love only puts us upon obtaining and securing it. There- fore, if it be possible, that self-love may prevail and exert itself in a degree or manner which is not subservient to this end ; then it will not follow, that our interest will be promoted in proportion to the degree in which that principle engrosses us, and prevails over others. Nay further, the pHvate and contracted affection, when it is not subservient to this end, private good, may, for any thing that appears, have a direct contraiw tendency and effect. And if we will consider the matter, we shall see that it often really has. Disengagement is absolutely ne- cessary to enjoyment: and a perscm may have so steady and fixed an eye upon his own interest, whatever he places it in, as may hinder him from attending to many gratifications within his reach, which others have their minds free and open to. Over- fondness for a child is not generally thought to be for its advantage : and, if there be any guess to be made from appearances, surely that character we call selfish is not the most promising for happiness. Such a temper may plainly be, and exert itself in a degree and manner which may give unneces- sarv and useless solicitude and anxietv, in a deirree and manner which may prevent oljtaining the means and materials of enjoyment, as well as the making use of them. Immoderate self-love does very ill consult its own interest: and how much soever a paradox it may appear, it is certainly true, that even from self-love we should endeavour to get over all inordinate regard to, and consideration of ourselves. Every one of our pas- sions and affections hath its natural stint and bound, which may easily be exceeded ; Avhereas our enjoyments can possibly be but in a determinate measure and de- gree. Therefore such excess of the affection, since it cannot procure any enjoyment, must in all cases be use- less; but is generally attended with inconveniences, and often is downright pain and misery. This holds as much with regard to self-love as to all other affections. The X 130 UPON THE LOVE OF [Skr. XI. natural degree of it, so far as it sets us on work to gain and make use of the materials of satisfaction, may be to our real advantage; but beyond or besides this, it is in several respects an inconvenience and disadvantage. Thus it appears, that private interest is so far from be- ing likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles; that the contracted affection may be so preva- lent as to disappoint itself, and even contradict its own end, . private good. ^'But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever thought there was any rivalship between the love of greatness, honour, power, or between sensual appetites, and self-love ? No, there is a perfect harmony between them. It is by means of these particular appetites and affections that self-love is gratified in enjoyment, happi- ness, and satisfaction. The competition and rivalship is between self-love and the love of our neighbour : that affection which leads us out of ourselves, makes us re- gardless of our own interest, and substitute that of an- other in its stead." Whether then there be any peculiar competition and contrariety in this case, shall now be considered. Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist in oi be an affection to ourselves, a regard to our own private good: it is therefore distinct from benevolence, which is an affection to the good of our fellow creatures. But that benevolence is distinct from, that is, not the same thing with self-love, is no reason for it being looked up- on with any peculiar suspicion ; because every principle whatever, by means of which self-love is gratified, is dis- tinct from it : and all things which are distinct from each other are equally so. A man has an affection or aver- sion to another : that one of these tends to, and is grati- fied by doing good, that the other tends to, and is grati- fied by doing harm, does not in the least alter the respect which either one or the other of these inward feelings has to self-love. We use the word property so as to exclude any other persons having an interest in that of which we say a particular man has the property. And we often use the word selfish so as to exclude in the same S^R. OUR NEIGHBOUR. 131 manner all regards to the good of others. But the cases are not parallel: for though that exclusion is really part of the idea of property; yet such positive exclusion, or bringing this peculiar disregard to the good of othei^ into the idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or changing it from what it was before stated to consist in, namely, in an affection to ourselves.* This being the whole idea of self-love, it can no otherwise exclude good- will or love of others, than merely by not including it, no otherwise, than it excludes love of arts or of reputa- tion, or of any thing else. Neither on the other hand does benevoknce, any more than love of arts or of repu- tation, exclude self-love. Love of our neighbour then has just the same respect to, is no more distant from S!.lf-love, than hatred of our neighbour, or than love or hatred of any thing else. Thus the principles, from which men rush upon ce rtain ruin for the destruction of an enemy, and for the preservation of a friend, have the same respect to the private affection, and are equally interested, or equally disinterested: and it is of no avail, wh« thi r they are said to be one or the other. Therefore to those who are shocked to hear virtue spoken of as disin- terested, it may be allowed that it is indeed absurd to speak thus of it; unless hatred, several particular instances of vice, and all the common affections and aversions in man- kind, are acknowledged to be disinterested too. Is there any less inconsistence, between the love of inanimate things, or of creatures merely sensitive, and self-love; than between self-love and the love of our neighbour ? Is desire of and delight in the happiness of another any more a diminution of self-love, than desire of and delight in the esteem of another? They are both equally desire of and delight in somewhat external to ourselves: either both or neither are so. The object of self-love is expressed in the term self: and every appetite of sense, and every particular affection of the heart, are equally interested or disinterested, because the objects of them all are equally self or somewhat else. Whatever ridicule therefore the mention of a disinterested principle or action may be iupposed to lie op* n to, must, upon the matter being • p. 1^7. 132 UPON THE LOVE OF [Ser. XI. thus stated, relate to ambition, and e\ery appetite and particular affection, as much as to benevolence. And indeed all the ridicule, and all the grave perplexit}', of whict this subject hath had its fall share, is merely from words. The most intehigible way of speaking of it seems to be this: that self-love and the actions done in con- sequence of it (for these will presently appear to be the same as to this question) are interested; that particular affections towards external objects, and the actions done in consequence of those affections, are not so. But every one is at liberty to use words as he pleases. All that is here insisted upon is, that ambition, revenge, benevo- lence, all particular passions whatever, and the actions they produce, are equally interested or disinterested. Thus it appears that there is no peculiar contrariety between self-love and benevolence; no greater competi- tion between these, than between any other particular affections and self-love. This relates to the affections themselves. Let us now see whether there be any pe- cuhar contrariety between the respective courses of life which these affections lead to; whether there be any greater competition between the pursuit of private and of public good, than between any other particular pur- suits and that of private good. There seems no other reason to suspect that there is any such peculiar contrariety, but only that the courses of action which benevolence leads to, has a more direct tendency to promote the good of others, than that course of action which love of reputation suppose, or any other particular affection leads to. But that any affection tends to the happiness of another, does not hinder its tending to one's own happiness too. That others enjoy the benefit of the air and the light of the sun, does not hinder but that these are as much one's own private advantage now, as they would be if we had the property of them exclusive of all others. So a pursuit which tends to promote the good of another, yet may have as great tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit which does not tend to the good of another at all, or which is mischievous to him. All particular affections whatever, resentment, benevolence, love of arts, equally Ser. XL] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 133 lead to a course of action for their own gratification, i.e, the gratification of ourselves; and the gratification of each gives delight: so far then it is manifest they have all the same respect to private interest. Now take into consideration further, concerning these three pursuits, that the end of the first is the harm, of the second, the good of another, of the last, somewhat indifferent; and is there any necessity, that these additional considerations should alter the respect, which we before saw these three pursuits, had to private interest; or render any one of them less conducive to it, than any other? Thus one man's affection is to honour as his end; in order to ob- tain which he thinks no pains too great. Suppose another, with such a singularity of mind, as to have the same affection to public good as his end, which he endeavours with the same labour to obtain. In case of success, surely the man of benevolence hath as great enjoyment as the man of ambition; they both equally having the end of their affections, in the same degree, tended to: but in case of disappointment, the benevolent man has clearly the advantage; since endeavouring to do good considered as a virtuous pursuit, is gratified by its own consciousness, i.e. is in a degree its own reward. And as to these two, or benevolence and any otlu r particular passions whatever, considered in a further view, as forming a general temper, which more or less disposes us for enjoyment of all the common blessings of life, distinct from their own gratification : is benevo- lence less the temper of tranciuillity and freedom than ambition or covetousncss.^ Does the benevolent man appear less easy with himself, from his love to his neigh- bour.^ Does he less relish his being P Is there an\ peculiar gloom seated on his face? Is his mind less open to entertainment, to any particular gratification? Nothing is more manifest, than that being in good humour, which is benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself the temper of satisfaction and enjoyment. Suppose then a man sitting down to consider how he might become most easy to himself, and attain the greatest pleasure he could; all that which is liis real natural happiness. This can only consist in the enjoy- 134 UPON THE LOVE OF [Ser. XI. ment of those objects, which are by nature adapted to our several faculties. These particular enjoyments make up the sum total of our happiness: and they are supposed to arise from riches, honours, and the gratification of sensual appetites: be it so: yet none profess themselves so completely happy in these enjoyments, but that there is room left in the mind of others, if they were presented to them: nay, these, as much as they engage us, are not thought so high, but that human nature is capable even of greater. Now there have been persons in all ages, who have professed that they found satisfaction in the exercise of charity, in the love of their neighbour, in endeavouring to promote the happiness of all they had to do with, and in the pursuit of what is just, and right, and good, as the general bent of their mind, and end of their life; and that doing an action of baseness or cruelty, would be as great violence to their self, as much break- ing in upon their nature, as any external force. Persons of this character would add, if they might be heard, that they consider themselves as acting in the view of an in- finite Being, who is in a much higher sense the object of reverence and of love, than all the world besides ; and therefore they could have no more enjoyment from a wicked action done under his eye, than the persons to whom they are making their apology could, if all man- kind v/ere the spectators of it; and that the satisfaction of approving themselves to his unerring judgment, to whom they thus refer all their actions, is a more con- tinued settled satisfaction than any this world can afford; as also that they have, no less than others, a mind free and open to all the common innocent gratifications of it, such as they are. And if we go no further, does there appear any absurdity in thisP Will any one take upon him to say, that a man cannot find his account in this general course of life, as much as in the most unbounded ambition, and the excesses of pleasure? Or that such a person has not consulted so well for himself, for the satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the ambitious or dissolute man.^ And though the consideration, that God himself will in the end justify their taste, and sup- port their cause, is not formally to be insisted upon here; Ser, XL] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 135 yet thus much comes in, that all enjoyments whatever are much more clear and unmixed from the assurance that they will end well. Is it certain then that there is nothing in these pretensions to happiness? especially when there are not wanting persons, who have supported themselves with satisfactions of this kind in sickness, poverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs of death ; where- as it is manifest all other enjoyments fail in these cir- cumstances. This surely looks suspicious of ha^'inii somewhat in it. Self-love methinks should be alarmed. May she not possibly pass over greater pleasures, than those she is so wholly taken up with.^^ The short of the matter is no more than this. Hap- piness consists in the gratification of certain affections, appetites, passions, with objects which are by nature adapted to them. Self-love may indeed set us on work to gratify these; but happiness or enjoyment has no immediate connexion with self-love, but arises from such gratification alone. Love of our neighbour is one of those affections. This, considered as a virtuous princip/e, is gratified by a consciousness of endeavouring to promote the good of others; but considered as natural affection, its gratification consists in the actual accomplishment of this endeavour. Now indulgence or gratification of this affection, whether in that consciousness, or this accom- plishment, has the same respect to interest, as indulgence of any other affection ; they equally proceed from or do not proceed from self-love, they equally include or equally exclude this principle. Thus it appears, that benevolence and the pursuits of public good hath at least as great respect to self -love and the pursuits of private good, as any other particular passions, and their respective pursuits. Neither is covctousness, whether as a temper or pur- suit, any exception to this. For if by covctousness is meant the desire and pursuit of riches for ihv'w own sake, without any regard to, or consideration of, the uses of them; this hath as little to do with self-love, as benevo- lence hath. Hut by this word is usually meant, not such madness and total distraction of mind, but iuunoderate affection to and pursuit of riches as possessions in order 136 UPON THE LOVE OF Ser. XI/ to some further end; namely, satisfaction, interest, or good. This therefore is not a particular affection, or particular pursuit, but it is the general principle of self- love, and the general pursuit of our own interest; for which reason, the word selfish is by every one appro- priated to this temper and pursuit. Now as it is ridicul- ous to assert, that self-love and the love of our neighbour are the same: so neither is it asserted, that following these different affections hath the same tendency and respect to our own interest. The comparison is not be - tween self-love and the love of our neighbour; between pursuit of our own interest, and the interest of others : but between the several particular affections in human nature towards external objects, as one part of the com- parison; and the one particular affection to the good of - our neighbour, as the other part of it: and it has been shown, that all these have the same respect to self-love and private interest. There is indeed frequently an inconsistence or inter- fering between self-love or private interest, and the several particular appetites, passions, affections, or the pursuits they lead to. But this competition or interfer- ing is merely accidental; and happens much oftener be- tween pride, revenge, sensual gratifications, and private interest, than between private interest and benevolence. For nothing is more common, than to see men give themselves up to a passion or an affection to their known prejudice and ruin, and in direct contradiction to mani- fest and real interest, and the loudest calls of self-love: whereas the seeming competitions and interfering, be- tween benevolence and private interest, relate much more to the materials or means of enjoyment, than ta enjoyment itself There is often an interfering in the former, when there is none in the latter. Thus as to riches: so much money as a man gives away, so much: less will remain in his possession. Here is a real interfer- ing. But though a man cannot possibly give without lessening his fortune, yet there are multitudes might give without lessening their own enjoyment; because they may have more than tliey can turn to any real use or advantage to themselves. Thus, the more thouo;ht and S^K. XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 137 time any one employs about the interests and good of others, he must necessarily have less to attend his own; but he may have so ready and large a supply of his own wants, that such thought might be really useless to him- self, tiiough of great service and assistance to others. The general mistake, that there is some greater incon- sistence between endeavouring to promote the good of another and self-interest, than between self-interest and pursuing any thing else, seems, as hath already been hinted, to arise from our notions of property; and to be carri .d on by this property's being supposed to be itself our happiness or good. People are so very much taken up with this one subject, that they seem from it to have formed a general way of thinking, which they apply to other things that they have nothing to do with. Hence^ in a confused and sHght way, it might w^ell be taken for granted, that another's having no interest in an affection,. (i. e. his good not being the object of it,) renders, as one may speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater; and that if another had an interest in it, this would render his less, or occasion that such affection could not be so friendly to self-love, or conducive to private good, as an affection or pursuit which has not a regard to the good of another. This, I say, might be taken for granted, whilst it was not attended to, that the object of every particular affection is equally somewhat external to our- selves; and whether it be the good of another person, or whether it be any other external thing, makes no altera- tion with regard to its being one's own aff'ection, and the gratification of it one's own private enjoyment. And so far as it is taken for granted, that barely having the means and materials of enjoyment is what constitutes interest and happiness; that our interest or good consists in possessions themselves, in having the property of riches, houses, lands, gardens, not in the enjoyment of them; so far it will even more strongly be taken for granted, in the way already explained, that an aff'ection's conducing to the good of another, must even necessarily occasion it to conduce less to private good, if not to be positively detrimental to it. For, if property and hapj)i- ness are one and the same thing, as by increasing the 138 UPON THE LOVE OF [Ser. XI. property of another, you lessen your own property, so by promoting the happiness of another, you must lessen your own happiness. But Avhatever occasion the mis- take, I hope it has been fully proved to be one; as it has been proved, that there is no peculiar rivaiship or com- petition between self-love and benevolence; that as there may be a competition between these two, so there may also between any particular affection whatever and self-love; that every particular affection, benevolence among the rest, is subservient to self-love, by being the instrument of private enjoyment; and that in one re.spect benevolence contributes more to private interest, i. e. en- joyment or satisfaction, than any other of the particular common affections, as it is in a degree its own gratifi- cation. And to all these things may be added, that religion, from whence arises our strongest obligation to benevo- l. nce, is so far from disowning the principle of self-love, that it often addresses itself to that very principle, and always to the mind in that state when reason presides: and there can no access be had to the understanding, but by convincing men, that the course of life we would persuade them to is not contrary to their interest. It may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most impor- tant to us; that they will, nay, if you please, that they ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence be- tween them: though these last, too, as expressing the fitness of actions, are real as truth itself Let it be al- lowed, though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed con- sist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good, as such ; yet, that when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not contrary to it. Common reason and humanity, will have some influ- ence upon mankind, whatever becomes of speculations; but, so far as tlie interests of virtue depend upon tlie Ser. XI.] NEIGHBOUR. 139 theory of it being secured from open scorn, so far its very being in the world depends upon its appearing to have no contrariety to private interest and self-love. The foregoing observations, tlierefore, it is hoped, may have gained a little ground in favour of the precept be- fore us ; the particulaj' explanation of which shall be the subject of the next discourse. I will conclude at present, with observing the peculiar obligation which we are under to virtue and religion, as enforced in t\v^ verses following the text, in the epistle for the day, from our Saviour's coming into the world. The night is far spent, the day is at hand; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let vs put on the armour of tight, (fee. The meaning and force of which exhorta- tion is, that Christianity lays us under new obligations to a good life, as by it the will of God is more clearly revealed, and as it aflbrds additional motives to the prac- tice of it, over and above those which arise out of the nature of virtue and vice; 1 might add, as our Saviour has set us a perfect example of goodness in our own na- ture. Now love and charity is plainly the thing in which he hath placed his religion; in which, therefore, as we have any pretence to the name of Christians, we must place ours. He hath at once enjoined it upon us by way of command with peculiar force; and by his exam- ple, as having undertaken the work of our salvation out of pure love and good- will to mankind. The endeavour to set home this example upon our minds is a very pro- per employment of this season, which is bringing on the festival of his birth: which as it may teach us many ex- cellent lessons of humihty, resignation, and obedience to the will of God; so there is none it recommends with greater authority, force, and advantage, than this of love and charity; since it was for lis men, and for our salva- tion, that he came doicn from heaven, and was incarnate, and was made man ; that he might teach us our duty, and more especially that he might enforce the practice of it, reform mankind, and finally bring us to that eternal saU vatiouy of which he is the Author to all those that obey hiiju 140 UPON THE LOVE OF SERMON XIL UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. And if there be any other commandment^ it is briefly comprehended in this saying^ namely. Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. — Rom. xiii. 9. Having already removed the prejudices against public spirit, or the love of our neighbour, on the side of private interest and self-love; I proceed to the particular expla- nation of the precept before us, by showing. Who is our neighbour : In what sense we are required to lave him a^ ourselves : The influence such love would have upon our behaviour in life : and lastly, How this commandment com-' prehends in it all others. I. The objects and due extent of this affection will be understood by attending to the nature of it, and to the nature and circumstances of mankind in this world. The love of our neighbour is the same with charity, benevo- lence, or good-will: it is an affection to the good and happiness of our fellow creatures. This implies in it a disposition to produce happiness: and this is the simple notion of goodness, which appears so amiable wherever we meet with it. From hence it is easy to see, that the perfection of goodness consists in love to the whole uni- verse. This is the perfection of Almighty God. But as man is so much limited in his capacity, as so small a part of the creation comes under his notice and influence, and as we are not used to consider things in so general a way; it is not to be thought of, that the universe should be the object of benevolence to such creatures as we are. Thus in that precept of our Savi- our, Be ye perfect y even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect* the perfection of the divine goodness is pro- posed to our imitation as it is promiscuous, and extends to the evil as well as the good; not as it is absolutely universal, imitation of it in this respect being plainly beyond us. The object is too vast. For this reason * MatL V. 48. 6er. XII.l OUR NEIGHBOUR. 141 moral writers also have sabstituted a less general object for our benevolence, mankind. But this likewise is an object too general, and very much out of our view. Therefore persons more practical have, instead of man- kind, put our country; and this is what we call a public spirit; which, in men of public stations is the character of a patriot. But this is speaking to the upper part of the world. Kingdoms and governments are large; and the sphere of action of far the greatest part of mankind is much narrower than the government they live under: or, however, common men do not consider their actions as affecting the whole community of which they are members. There plainly is wanting a less general and nearer object of benevolence for the bulk of men, than that of their country. Therefore the scripture, not being a book of theory and speculation, but a plain rule of life for mankind, has with the utmost possible propriety put the principle of virtue upon the love of our neighbour; which is that part of the universe, that part of mankind, that part of our country, which comes under our imme- diate notice, acquaintance, and influence, and with which we have to do. This is plainly the true account or reason, why our Saviour places the principle of virtue in the love of our neighbour; and the account itself shows who are compre- hended under that relation. II. Let us now consider in what sense we are com- manded to love our neighbour as ourselves. This precept, in its first delivery by our Saviour, is thus introduced: TJiou shall love the Lord thy God with all thine hearty with all thy soul, and with all thy strength; and thy neighbour as thyself. These very different man- ners of expression do not lead our thoughts to the same measure or degree of love, common to both objects; but to one, peculiar to each. Supposing then, which is to be supposed, a distinct meaning and propriety in the words, as thyself; the precept we are considering will admit of any of these senses: that we bear the same kind of affection to our neighbour, as we do to ourselves: or, tliat the love we bear to our neighbour should have some certain proportion or other to self-love: or, lastly, that it 142 UPON THE LOVE OF [Ser. XII. should bear the particular proportion of equality y that it he in the same degree. First, The precept may be understood as requiring only, that we have the same kind of affection to our fellow creatures, as to ourselves: that, as every man has the principle of self-love, which disposes him to avoid misery, and consult his own happiness; so we should cultivate the affection of good-will to our neighbour, and that it should influence us to have the same kind of regard to him. This at least must be commanded: and this will not only prevent our being injurious to him, but will also put us upon promoting his good. There are blesshigs in life, which we share in common with others; peace, plenty, freedom, healthful seasons. But real benevolence to our fellow creatures would give us the notion of a common interest in a stricter sense: for in the degree we love another, his interest, his joys and sorrows, are our own. It is from self-love that we form the notion of private good, and consider it as our own: love of our neighbour would teach us thus to appropriate to ourselves his good and welfare, to consider ourselves as having a real share in his happiness. Thus the prin- ciple of benevolence would be an advocate within our own breasts, to take care of the interests of our fellow creatures in all the interfering and competitions which cannot but be, from the imperfection of our nature, and the state we are in. It would likewise, in some measure, lessen that interfering; and hinder men from forming so strong a notion of private good, exclusive of the good of others, as we commonly do. Thus, as the private affec- tion makes us in a peculiar manner sensible of humanity, justice or injustice, when exercised towards ourselves; love of our neighbour would give us the same kind of sensibility in his behalf. This would be the greatest security of our uniform obedience to that most equitable rule ; Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them. All this is indeed no more than that we should have a real love to our neighbour: but then, which is to be ob- served, the words, as thyself, express this in the most distinct manner, and determine the precept to relate to S^JL XII-] OUR NEIGHBOUR. the affection itself. The advantage, which this princi})le 01 benevolence has over other remote considerations, is. that it is itself the temper of virtue: and likewise, that it is the chief, nay the only effectual security of our per- forming the several offices of kindness we owe to our fellow creatures. When from distant considerations men resolve upon any thing to which they have no liking, or perhaps an averseness, they are perpetually finding out evasions and excuses; which need never be wanting, if people look for them: and they equivocate with them- selves in the plainest cases in the world. This may be in respect to single determinate acts of virtue: but it comes in much more, where the obligation is to a gene- ral course of behaviour; and most of all, if it be such as cannot be reduced to fixed determinate rules. This observation may account for the diversity of the expres- sion, in that known passage of the prophet Micah: to do justly, and to love mercy. A man's heart must be formed to humanity and benevolence, he must love mercy, other- wise he will not act mercifully in any settled course of behaviour. As consideration of the future sanctions of religion is our only security of persevering in our duty, in cases of great temptations: so to get our heart and temper formed to a love and liking of what is good, is absolutely necessary in order to our behaving rightly in the familiar and daily intercourses amongst mankind. Secondly, The precept before us may be und( rstood to require, that we love our neighbour in some certain proportion or other, accordhuj as we love ourselves. And indeed a man's character cannot be determined by the love he bears to his neighbour, considered absolutely: but the proportion which tliis bears to self-love, whethi r it be attended to or not, is the chief thing which forms the character, and influences the actions. For, as the form of the body is a composition of various parts; so likewise our inward structure is not simple or uniform, but a composition of various passions, appetites, aft'ec- tions, together with rationality ; including in this last both the discernment of what is right, and a dis|)ositioii to regulate ourselves by it. There is greater variety of parts in what we call a character, than there are features 144 UPON THE LOVH, OF [Ser. XII. in a face: and the morality of that is no more determined by one part, than the beauty or deformity of this is by one single feature : each is to be judged of by all the parts or features, not taken singly, but together. In the inward frame the various passions, appetites, affections, stand in different respects to each other. The principles in our mind may be contradictory, or checks and allays only, or incentives and assistants to each other. And principles, which in their nature have no kind of con- trariety or affinity, may yet accidentally be each other's allays or incentives. From hence it comes to pass, that though we were able to look into the inward contexture of the heart, and see with the greatest exactness in what degree any one principle is in a particular man ; we could not from thence determine, how far that principle would go to- wards forming the character, or what infiutnce it would have upon the actions, unless we could likewise discern what other principles prevailed in him, and see the pro- portion which that one bears to the others. Thus, though two men should have the affection of compassion in the same degree exactly : yet one may have the principle of resentment, or of ambition so strong in him, as to prevail over that of compassion, and prevent its having any influence upon his actions ; so that he may deserve the character of an hard or cruel man: w^hereas the other having compassion in just the same degree only, yet having resentment or ambition in a lower degree, his compassion may prevail over them, so as to influence his actions, and to denominate his temper compassionate. So that, how strange soever it may appear to people who do not attend to the thing, yet it is quite manifest, that, when we say one man is more resenting or compassionate than another, this does not necessarily imply that one has the principle of resentment or of compassion stronger ihan the other. For if the proportion, which resentment or compassion bears to other inward principles, is greater in one than in the other; this is itself sufficient to deno- minate one more resenting or compassionate than the other. Further, the whole system, as I may speak, of aflfec- Ser. XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 145 tions (including rationality), which constitute the heart, as this word is used in Scripture and on moral subjects, are each and all of them stronger in some than in others. Now the proportion which the two general affections, benevolence and self-love, bear to each other, according to this interpretation of the text, denominates men's character as to virtue. Suppose then one man to have the principle of benevolence in an higher degree than another: it will not follow from hence, that his general temper, or character, or actions, will be more benevolent than the other's. For he may have self-love in such a degree as quite to prevail over benevolence ; so that it may have no influence at all upon his actions; whereas benevolence in the other person, though in a lower degree, may yet be the strongest principle in his heart; and strong enough to be the guide of his actions, so as to denominate him a good and virtuous man. The case is here as in scales: it is not one weight, considered in itself, which determines whether the scale shall ascend or descend; but this depends upon the proportion which that one weight hath to the other. It being thus manifest that the influence which bene- volence has upon our actions, and how far it goes towards forming our character, is not determined by the degree itself of this principle in our mind; but by the propor- tion it has to self-love and other principles: a compari- son also being made in the text between self-love and the love of our neighbour; these joint considerations aff'orded sufficient occasion for treating here of that pro- portion: it plainly is implied in the precept, though it should be questioned, whether it be the exact meaning of the words, as thyself. Love of our neighbour tlicn must bear some proportion to self-love, and virtue to be sure consists in the due pro- portion. What this due proportion is, whether as a l)rinciple in the mind, or as exerted in actions, can be judged of only from our nature and condition in tliis Avorld. Of the degree in which aff'cctions and the prin- ciples of action, considered in themselves, |)revail, we have no measure: let us tlien proceed to the course of behaviour, the actions they produce. K 146 UPON THK LOVE OF [SEa.XH.- Both our nature and condition require, that each par- ticular man should make particular provision for himself: and the inquiry, what proportion benevolence should have to self-love, when brought down to practice, will be, what is a competent care and provision for ourselves. And how certain soever it be, that each man must deter-- mine this for himself; and how ridiculous soever it would be, for any to attempt to determine it for another: yet it is to be observed, that the proporti'on is real; and that a competent provision has a bound; and that it can- not be all which w^e can possibly get and keep within our grasp, without legal injustice. Mankind almost uni- versally bring in vanity, supplies for what is called a hfe of pleasure, covetousness, or imaginary notions of supe- riority over others, to determine this question: but every one who desires to act a proper part in society, w^ould do well to consider, how far any of them come in to determine it, in the way of moral consideration. All that can be said is, supposing, what, as the world goes, is so much to be supposed that is scarce to be mentioned, that persons do not neglect what they really owe to themselves; the more of their care and thought, and of their fortune, they employ in doing good to their fellow creatures, the nearer they come up to the law of perfec- tion, Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself. Thirdly, if the words, as thyself, were to be understood of an equality of affection; it would not be attended with those consequences, which perhaps may be thought to follow from it. Suppose a person to have the samq set- tled regard to others, as to himself ; that in every deli- berate scheme or pursuit he took their interest into the account in the same degree as his own, so far as an equality of affection would produce this: yet he would in fact, and ought to be, much more taken up and employed about himself, and his own concerns, than about others, and their interests. For, besides the one common affec- tion toward himself and his neighbour, he would have^ several other particular affections, passions, appetites, which he could not possibly feel in common both for himself and others : now these sensations themselves very much employ us; and have perhaps as great influ- Ses. XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 147 ence as self-love. So far indeed as self-love^ and cool reflection upon what is for our interest, would set us on work to gain a supply of our own several wants", so far the love of our neiglibour would make us do the same for him: but the degree in which we are put upon seek- ing and making use of the means of gratification, by the feeling of those affections, appetites, and passions, must necessarily be peculiar to ourselves. That there are particular passions (suppose shame, resentment,) which men seem to have, and feel in com- mon, both for themselves and others, makes no altera- tion in respect to those passions and appetites which cannot possibly be thus felt in common. From hence (and perhaps more things of the like kind might be mentioned) it follows, that though theje were an equality of affection to both, yet regard to ourselves, would be more prevalent than attention to the concerns of others. And from moral considerations it ought to be so, sup- posing still the equality of aflfection commanded: because we are in a peculiar manner, as I may speak, intrusted with ourselves; and therefore care of our own interests, as well as of our conduct, particularly belongs to us. To these things must be added, that moral obligations can extend no further than to natural possibilities. Now we have a perception of our own interests, like consci- ousness of our own existence, which we always carry about with us; and which, in its continuation, kind, and degree, seems impossible to be felt in respect to the in- terests of otliers. From all these things it fully appears, that though we were to love our neighbour in the same degree as we love ourselves, so far as this is possible; yet the care of ourselves, of the individual, would not be neglected; the apprehended danger of which seems to be the only ob- jection against understanding the precept in this strict sense. III. The general temper of mmd which the due love of our neighbour would form us to, and the influence it would have upon our behaviour in life, is now to be considered. The temper and behaviour of charity is explained at 148 UPON THE LOVE OF [Ser. XII. large, in that known passage of St Paul:* Charity suf- fer eth Jong, and is kind; charity envieth not, aoth not behave itsef unseemly, seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, beareth all things, believetJi all things, hopeth all things. As to the meaning of the expressions, seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, believeth all things; however those expressions may be explained away, this meekness, and in some degree easiness of temper, readiness to forego our right for the sake of peace, as well as in the way of compassion, freedom from mistrust, and disposition to believe well of our neighbour, this general temper, I say, accompanies, and is plainly the effect of love and good-will. And, though such is the world in which we live, that experience and knowledge of it not only may, but must beget ir^ us greater regard to ourselves, and doubtfulness of the characters of others, than is natural to mankind; yet these ought not to be carried further than the nature and course of things make necessary. It is still true, even in the present state of things, bad as it is, that a real good man had rather be deceived, than be suspicious; had rather forego his known right, than run the venture of doing even a hard thing. This is the general temper of that charity, of which the apostle asserts, that if he had it not, giving his body to be burned would avail him nothing ; and which he says shall never fail. The happy influence of this temper extends to every different relation and circumstance in human life. It plainly renders a man better, more to be desired, as to all the respects and relations we can stand in to each other. The benevolent man is disposed to make use of all external advantages in such a manner as shall contribute to the good of others, as well as to his own satisfaction. His own satisfaction consists in this. He will be easy and kind to his dependents, compas- sionate to the poor and distressed, friendly to all with whom he has to do. This includes the good neighbour, parent, master, magistrate : and such a behaviour would plainly make dependence, inferiority, and even servitude, easy. So that a good or charitable man of superior rank * I Cor. xiau Ser. XII. OUR NEIGHBOUR, 149 in wisdom, fortune, authority, is a common blessing to the place ne lives in: happmess grows under his influ- ence. This good principle in inferiors would discover itself in paying respect, gratitude, obedience, as due. It were therefore, methinks, one just way of trying one's own character, to ask ourselves, am I in reality a better master or servant, a better friend, a better neighbour, than such and such persons; whom, perhaps, I may think not to deserve the character of virtue and rehgion so much as myself.^ And as to the spirit of party, which unhappily prevails amongst mankind, whatever are the distinctions which serve for a supply to it, some or other of which have obtained in all ages and countries: one who is thus friendly to his kind w^ll immediately make due allow- ances for it, as what cannot but be amongst such crea- tures as men, in such a world as this. And as wrath and fury and overbearing upon these occasions proceed, as I may speak, from men s feebng only on their own side: so a common feeling, for others as well as for our- selves, would render us sensible to this truth, which it is strange can have so little influence; that we ourselves diff'er from others, just as much as they do from us. I put the matter in this way, because it can scarce be expected that the generality of men should see, that those things which are made the occasions of dissension and fomenting the party-spirit, are really nothing at all: but it may be expected from all people, how much soever they are in earnest about their respective peculiarities, that humanity, and common good-will to their fellow creatures, should moderate and restrain that wrclchetl spirit. This good temper of charity likewise wo\ild prcn-ent strife -and enmity arising from other occasions: it would prevent our giving just cause of off*ence, and our taking it without cause. And in cases of real injury, a good man will make all the allowance? which are to be made; and, without any attempts of retaliation, he will only consult his own and other men's security for tlic future, against injustice and wrong. IV. I proceed to consider lastly, what is aflirmcd of 150 UPON THE LOVE OF j;seb. xir the precept now explained, that it comprehends in it all others ; i. e. that to love our neighbour as ourselve? includes in it all virtues. Now the way in which every maxim of conduct, or general speculative assertion, when it is to be explained at large, should be treated, is, to show what are the par- ticular truths which were designed to be comprehended under such a general observation, how far it is strictly true; and then the limitations, restrictions, and excep- tions, if there be exceptions, with which it is to be under- stood. But it is only the former of these; namely, how far the assertion in the text holds, and the ground of the pre-eminence assigned to the precept of it, which in strictness comes into our present consideration. However, in almost every thing that is said, there is somewhat to be understood beyond what is explicitly laid down, and which we of course supply ; somewhat, I mean, which would not be commonly called a restriction, or limitation. Thus, when benevolence is said to be the sum of virtue, it is not spoken of as a blind propension, but as a principle in reasonable creatures, and so to be directed by their reason: for reason and reflection come into our notion of a moral agent. And that will lead us to consider distant consequences, as well as the immediate tendency of an action : it will teach us, that the care of some persons, suppose children and families, is parti- cularly committed to our charge by Nature and Provi- dence ; as also that there are other circumstances, suppose friendship or former obligations, which require that we do good to some preferably to others. Reason, con- sidered merely as subservient to benevolence, as assist- ing to produce the greatest good, will teach us to have particular regard to these relations and circumstances; because it is plainly for the good of the world that they should be regarded. And as there are numberless cases, in which, notwithstanding appearances, we are not com- petent judges, whether a particular action will upon the whole do good or harm; reason in the same way will teach us to be cautious how we act in these cases of uncertainty. It will suggest to our consideration, which is the safer side; how liable we are to be led wrong by 'Ser. xit ] our neighbour. 151 passion and private interest; and what regard is due to laws, and the judgment of mankind. All these thmgs must come into consideration, were it only in order to determine which way of acting is likely to produce the greatest good. Thus, upon supposition that it were in the strictest sense true, without limitation, that benevo- lence includes in it all virtues; yet reason must come in as its guide and director, in order to attain its own end, the end of benevolence, the greatest public good. Rea- son then being thus included, let us now consider the truth of the assertion itself. First, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence to mankind or any creature, but happiness. This then is all which any person can, in strictness of speaking, be said to have a right to. We can therefore owe no man any thing, but only to further and promote his happiness, according to our abilities. And therefore a disposition and endeavour to do good to all with whom we have to do, in the degree and manner which the different rela- tions we stand in to them require, is a discharge of all the obligations we are under to them. As human nature is not one simple uniform thing, but a composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites, particular passions, and affections; fur each of which reasonable self-love would lead men to have due regard, and make suitable provision: so society consists of vari- ous parts, to which we stand in different respects and relations; and just benevolence would as surely lead us to have due regard to each of these, and behave as the respective relations require. Reasonable good-will, and right behaviour towards our fellow creatures, are in a manner the same: only that the former expresseth the principle as it is in the mind; the latter, the principle as it were become external, i. e. exerted in actions. And so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation in sensual pleasures, and the contrary vices, have any re- spect to our fellow creatures, any influence upon their quiet, welfare, and happiness; as they always have a real, and often a near influence upon it; so far it is manifest those virtues may be produced by the love of our neighbour, and that the contrary vices would be pre- 152 UPON THE LOVE OF [Ser. XII. vented by it. Indeed if men's regard to themselves will not restrain them from excess; it may be thought little probable, that their love to others will be sufficient: but the reason is, that their love to others is not, any more than their regard to themselves, just, and in its due degree. There are however manifest instances of per- sons kept sober and temperate from regard to their affairs^ and the welfare of those who depend upon them. And it is obvious to every one, that habitual excess, a dissolute course of life, imphes a general neglect of the duties we owe towards our friends, our families, and our country. From hence it is manifest that the common virtues, and the common vices of mankind, may be traced up to benevolence, or the want of it. And this entitles the precept. Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself, to the pre-eminence given to it; and is a justification of the Apostle's assertion, that all other commandments are (omprehended in it; whatever cautions and restrictions* there are, which might require to be considered, if we were to state particularly and at length, what is virtue and right behaviour in mankind. But, Secondly, It might be added, that in a higher and more general way of consideration, leaving out the par- * For insLancc : as we are not competent jiK]«es, what is upon the whole for the P^ood of the world, there may be other immediate ends appointed ns to pursue^ besides that one of doing j^ootl, or producing hap{)iness. Thongh the pood of the crfation be tiie oidy end of the Author of it, yet i e may have laid us under particular ()l)l'jgati()ns, which we may discern and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a per- cepiion, that the observance or violation of them is for the happiness or misery of our lellow creatures. And this is in fact the case. For there are certain dispositions of n ind, and ceriain actions, which are in themselves approved or disapproved by man- 1. ind, aI)sLract<'d froi:; the con>ideration of tlieir tendency to the happiness or misery . f the world ; a()prov('d or disapproved by reflection, by that principle witliin, which L< (he pnide of life, the judgr of right and wrong. Numberless instances of this kind miglit lie mentioned. Tliere are pieces of trenchery, wliich in themselves appear ba>e and detestable to every one. There are actions, which perhaps can scarce have any other general name given them, than indecencies, which yet are odious ainl shock. ng to liiunan nature. Tlu're is such a thing as meaiuwss, a little mind ; whicii, as it is quite distinct fiom incjijiacity , m it raises a dislike and disapprobation quite different from tliat <;onLenipt, wiiich men are too apt to have, of mere folly. On ihe oilier hand ; what we call greatness of mind is the object of another sort ol ap[»rol)ation, than superior umlerstanding. Fiilelity, iionour, stri(-t justice, are them- selves approved in the highest degree, al)stracted from the consideration of their tendency. Now, whether it i)e thought that each of these are connected wiih bene- \olenr;e in our nature, and so may be considered us the same thing with it; or whetlier some of them be thought an interior kind of virtues and vices, somewhat 1 ke iiaiiiral Ijeauties and (leformiti« s ; or lastly, |plain exceptions to Ihe general rule ; ,hu> iiincli however is f;ertain, that the things now instanced in, aiul nuniOerless jlhei-si, are a|ii>rov(d or disapproved by mankind in general, in quite another vkiw than io (;onduciv(r to the liappiness or misery of the world. Sen. XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 153 ticular nature of creatures, and the particular circum- stances in which they are placed, benevolence seems in the strictest sense to include in it all that is good and worthy; all that is good, which we have any distinct particular notion of. We have no clear conception of any positive moral attribute in the supreme Being, but what may be resolved up into goodness. And, if we consider a reasonable creature or moral agent, without regard to the particular relations and circumstances in which he is placed; we cannot conceive any thing else to come in towards determining whether he is to be ranked in a higher or lower class of virtuous beings, but the higher or lower degree in which that principle, and what is manifestly connected with it, prevail in him. That which we more strictly call piety, or the love of God, and which is an essential part of a right temper, some may perhaps imagine no way connected with bene- volence: yet surely they must be connected, if there be indeed in being an object infinitely good. Human nature is so constituted, that every good affection implies the love of itself; i.e. becomes the object of a new affection in the same person. Thus, to be righteous, implies in it* the love of righteousness; to be benevolent, the love of !)enevolence ; to be good, the love of goodness; whether tliis righteousness, benevolence, or goodness, be viewed v\s in our own mind, or in another's: and the love of God as a being perfectly good, is the love of perfect .i vr h«Mi» fii to llu- l;irf;-(' tracts of coutitry west aial north of it. 'I lu n the nu tlicinul waters near the city rentier it a still more jiroper siliuiliun h)r an infii niary. An«l so likewise does its neighhotirhood to llie Hath hospiijil. For it may u « ll l)e supposril. that s«>me })iM»r ohjeets will he sent ihitlier in hopes of n lief from the Hath waters, whose cjisp may afterwanls be foinui to n quire the nssisl;ince of physic or surjfery : and on Uie other hand, that some ujay Iw sent to our infirmary for help from iliose arts, whose Ctsr nmy he found to require the Haih waters. So that if I am iu>t preatly partial, the HriNtol uifirniary as much deserves encourageuient as any chantahle foiuiiltuion in the kingdom. f 11. h. x. '^\. X IMid. i. 18. 208 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE capital are to reform the offenders themselves, and warn the innocent by their example, every thing which should contribute to make this kind of punishments answer these purposes better than it does, would be a great improve- ment. And whether it be not a thing practicable, and what would contribute somewhat towards it, to exclude utterly all sorts of revel-mirth from places where offenders are confined, to separate the young from the old, and force them both, in solitude, with labour and low diet, to make the experiment, how far their natural strength of mind can support them under guilt and shame and poverty; this may deserve consideration. Then again, some religious instruction particularly adapted to their condition would as properly accompany those punishments which are intended to reform, as it does capital ones. God forbid that I should be understood to discourage the provision which is made for it in this latter case; I heartily wish it were better than it is; especially since it may well be supposed, as the state of religion is at present among us, that some condemned malefactors may have never had the doctrine of the gospel enforced upon their consciences. But since it must be acknowledged of greater consequence, in a religious as well as civil respect, how persons live, than how they die; it cannot but be even more incumibent on us to endeavour, in all ways, to reclaim those offenders who are to return again into the world, than those who are to be removed out of it : and the only effectual means of reclaiming them, is to instil into them a principle of religion. If persons of authority and influence would take things of this and a like kind under their consideration, they might perhaps still improve those charities ; which are already, I truly believe, under a better management than any other of so large a compass in the world. But, 4. With regard to the two particular branches of them last mentioned, I would observe, that our laws and whole constitution, civil and ecclesiastical, go more upon sup- position of an equality amongst mankind, than the constitution and laws of other countries. Now this plainly requires that more particular regard should be had to the education of the lower people here, than in THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 209 places, where they are born slaves of power, and to be made slaves of superstition. It is, I suppose, acknowledged, that they have greater liberty here, than they have any where else in the world. But unless care be taken for giving them some inward principle, to prevent their abus- ing this greater liberty which is their birthright, can we expect it will prove a blessing to them.^ or will they not in all probability become more dissolute, or more wild and extravagant, whatever wrong turn they happen to take, than people of the same rank in other countries .^^ 5. Let me again remind you of the additional reason, which persons of fortune have to take particular care of their whole behaviour, that it be in all respects good and exemplary, upon account of the influence which it will have upon the manners of their inferiors. And pray observe how strictly this is connected with the occasion of our present meeting; how much your good behaviour in private life will contribute to promote the good design of all these charities ; and how much the contrary would tend to defeat it, and even to produce the evils which they are intended to prevent or to remedy. Whatever care be taken in the education of these poor children at school, there is always danger of their being corrupted, when they come from it. And this danger is greater, in proportion to the greater wickedness of the age they are to pass through. But if, upon their coming abroad into the world, they And the principles of virtue and religion recommended by the example of their superiors, and vice and irreligion really discountenanced, this will confirm them in the good principles in which they have been brought up, and give the best ground to hope they will never depart from them. And the like is to be said of offenders, who may have had a sense of virtue and religion wrought in them, under the discipline of labour and confinement. Again ; dissolute and debauched persons of fortune greatly increase the general corruption of manners; and this is what increases want and misery of all kinds. So that they may contribute largely to any or all of these charities, and yet undo but a very small part of the mischief which they do, by th( ir examplr, as well as in other ways. Hut still this mischief which they o 210 A SERMON, ETC. do, suppose by their example, is an additional reason why they should contribute to them; even in justice to particular persons, in whose ruin they may have an unknown share of guilt; or however injustice to society in general; for which they will deserve commendation, how blameable soever they are for the other. And mdeed amidst the dark prospect before us, from that profligateness of manners, and scorn of religion, which so generally abound, this good spirit of charity lo the poor discovering itself in so great a degree, upon these occasions, and likewise in the late necessitous time, even amongst persons far from being blameless in other respects; this cannot but afford hopes, that we are not given over by Providence, and also that they themselves will at length consider, and not go on contributing, by the example of their vices, to the introduction of that distress, which they so commendably relieve by their liberality. To conclude: Let our charity towards men be exalted into piety towards God, from the serious consideration, that we are all his creatures; a consideration which enforces that duty upon our consciences, as we have any regard to him. This kind of adjuration, and a most solemn one it is, one often hears profaned by a very unworthy sort of people, when they ask relief for God's sake. But surely the principle itself, which contains in it every thing great, and just, and good, is grievously forgotten among us. To relieve the poor for God's sake, is to do it in conformity to the order of nature, and to his will, and his example, who is the Author and Gover- nor of it; and in thankful remembrance, that all we have is from his bounty. It is to do it in his behalf, and as to him. For he that hath pity upon the poor lendcth unto the Lord:* and our Saviour has declared, that he will take as given to himself, what is given in a well- chosen charity.t Lastly, it is to do it under a sense of the account which will be required of what is committed to our trust, when the rich and poor j who meet hereupon terms of so great inequality, shall meet hereafter upon a level, before him who is the Maker of them alL ♦ Prov. xix. 17. t Matt. xxv. 40, A SERMON, ETC. 211 SERMON III. PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY-CHURCH OF WEST- MINSTER, ON FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1740-41, BEING THE DAY APPOINTED TO BE OBSERVED AS THE DAY OF THE MARTYRDOM OF KING CHARLES I. And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness y hut as the servants of God. — 1 Peter ii. IG. A HISTORY so fall of important and interesting events as that which this day recalls annually to our thoughts, cannot but afford them very different subjects for their most serious and useful employment. But there seems none which it more naturally leads us to consider than that of hypocrisy, as it sets before us so many examples of it; or which will yield us more practical instruction, as these examples so forcibly admonish us, not only to be upon our guard against the pernicious effects of this vice in others^ but also to watch over our own hearts, against every thing of the like kind in ourselves: for hypocrisy, in the moral and religious consideration of things, is of much larger extent than every one may imagine. In common language, which is formed upon the com- mon intercourses amongst men, hypocrisy signifies little more than their pretending what they really do not mean, in order to delude one another. But in Scripture, which treats chiefly of our behaviour towards God and our own consciences, it signifies, not only the endeavour to delude our fellow creatures, but likewise insincerity towards him, and towards ourselves. And therefore, according to the whole analogy of Scripture language, to use liberty as a cloak oj' maliciousness * must be undcr- * The hypocrisy laki to the diarj^e of tho Ph.irisoos niid Saddtircos, in Mjitt. xvi. nt the b«'ffiiiiiiiitr, jiiul ill Luke xii, 54, is dcterniioatply this, that thrir virions pjwsiojns brnKlj'ilthfin s<) as to prevent tlieir disceriiiii'j^ tln' evidence ()t"»»ur Siivioiir's mission ; thoiifijh no more understanding was necessiiry to iliscern it, tJian w^mt tliey liad. aitd made use of in connnnn nuitters. Here they are railed hypocrites merely upon nccourjl of thi-ir insincerity loNvanls (icnl anil Uieir ov*. ii ronstriences, and not iit all upon account of any insincerity towards men. This last indee,-. 256 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE after the application of such remedies as nature has provided. For as it is certain on the one side, that those diseases are providential corrections of intemperance, it is as certain on the other, that the remedies are providential mitigations of those corrections; and alto- gether as much providential, when administered by the good hand of charity in the case of our neighbour, as when administered by self-love in our own. Thus the pain, and danger, and other distresses of sickness and poverty remaining, after all the charitable relief which can be procured; and the many uneasy circumstances which cannot but accompany that relief, though distributed with all supposable humanity ; these are the natural cor- rections of idleness and debauchery, supposing these vices brought on those miseries. And very severe corrections they are : and they ought not to be increased by withholding that relief, or by harshness in the distri- bution of it. Corrections of all kinds, even the most necessary ones, may easily exceed their proper bound : and when they do so, they become mischievous; and mischievous in the measure they exceed it. And the natural corrections which we have been speaking of would be excessive, if the natural mitigations provided for them were not administered. Then persons who are so scrupulously apprehensive of every thing which can possibly, in the most indirect manner, encourage idleness and vice (which, by the way, any thing may accidentally do), ought to turn their thoughts to the moral and religious tendency of infirmaries. The religious manner in which they are carried on has itself a direct tendency to bring the subject of religion into the consideration of those whom they relieve ; and, in some degree, to recommend it to their love and practice, as it is productive of so much good to them, as restored ease and health, and a capacity of resuming their several employments. It is to virtue and religion, they may mildly be admonished, that they are indebted for their relief. And this, amongst other admonitions of their spiritual guide, and the quiet and order of their house, out of the way of bad examples, together with a n gular course of devotion, GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 257 which it were greatly to be wished might be daily; these means, it is to be hoped, with the common grace of God, may enforce deeply upon their consciences those serious considerations, to which a state of affliction naturally renders the mind attentive, and that they will return, as from a religious retreat, to their severed employments in the world, with lasting impressions of piety in their hearts. By such united advantages, which these poor creatures can in no sort have any other way, very remarkable reformations have been wrought. Persons of the strictest characters therefore would give a more satisfactory proof, not to the world, but to theii' own consciences, of their desire to suppress vice and idleness, by setting themselves to cultivate the religious part of the institution of infirmaries, which, I think, would admit of great improvements; than by allowing themselves to talk in a manner which tends to discoun- tenance either the institution itself, or any particular branch of it. Admitting then the usefulness and necessity of these kinds of charity, which indeed cannot be denied; yet every thing has its hounds. And, in the spirit of severity before mentioned, it is imagined, that people are enough disposed^ such, it seems, is the present turn, to contribute largely to them. And some, whether from dislike of the charities themselves, or from mere profligateness, think these formal recommendations of them at church every year might very well he spared. But surely it is desirable, that a customary way should be kept open for removing prejudices as they may arise against these institutions; for rectifying any misrepre- sentations which may, at any time, be made of them; and informing the public of any new emergencies; as well as for repeatedly enforcing the known obligations of charity, and the excellency of this particular kind of it. Then sermqns, you know, amongst Protestants, always of course accompany these more solemn appearances in the house of God: nor will these latter be kept up without the other. Now public devotions should evci attend and consecrate public charities. And it would be a sad presage of the decay of these charities, if ever 258 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE they should cease to be professedly carried on in the fear of God, and upon the principles of religion. It may be added, that real charitable persons will approve of these frequent exhortations to charity, even though they should be conscious that they do not themselves stand in need of them, upon account of such as do. And such can possibly have no right to complain of being too often admonished of their duty, till they are pleased to practise it. It is true indeed, we have the satisfaction of seeing a spirit of beneficence prevail, in a very commendable degree, amongst all ranks of people, and in a very distinguished manner in some persons amongst the highest; yet it is evident, too many of all ranks are very deficient in it, who are of great ability, and of whom much might be expected. Though every thing therefore were done in behalf of the poor which is wanted, yet these persons ought repeatedly to be told, how highly blamable they are for letting it be done without them ; and done by persons, of whom great numbers must have much less ability than they. But whoever can really think, that the necessities of the disabled poor are sufficiently provided for already, must be strangely prejudiced. If one were to send you to them themselves to be better informed, you would readily answer, that their demands would be very extra- vagant; that persons are not to be their own judges in claims of justice, much less in those of charity. You then, I am speaking to the hard people above mentioned, you are to judge, what provision is to be made for the necessitous, so far as it depends upon your contributions. But ought you not to remember that you are interested, that you are parties in the affair as well as they. For is not the giver as really so as the receiver? And as there is danger that the receiver will err one way, is there not danger that the giver may err the other since it is not matter of arbitrary choice, which has no rule, but matter of real equity, to be considered as in the presence of God, what provision shall be made for the poor.P And therefore, though you are yourselves the only judges, what you will do in their behalf, for the case admits no other; yet let me tell you, you will not be in partial, GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY 259 you will not be equitable judges, until you have, guarded against the influence which interest is apt to have upon your judgment, and cultivated within you the spirit of charity to balance it. Then you will see the various remaining necessities which call for relief. But that there are many such must be evident at first sight to the most careless observer, were it only from hence, that both this and the other hospitals are often obliged to reject poor objects which ofi"er, even for want of room, or wards to contain them. Notwithstanding many persons have need of these admonitions, yet there is a good spirit of beneficence, as I observed, pretty generally prevailing. And I must congratulate you upon the great success it has given to the particular good work before us; great, I think, beyond all example for the time it has subsisted. Nor would it be unsuitable to the present occasion to recount the particulars of this success. For the necessary accommodations which have been provided, and the numbers who have been relieved, in so short a time, cannot but give high reputation to the London Infirmary. And the reputation of any particular charity, like credit ip trade, is so much real advantage, without the incon- veniences to which that is sometimes liable. It will bring in contributions for its support; and men of character, as they shall be wanted, to assist in the management of it; men of skill in the professions, men of conduct in business, to perpetuate, improve, and bring it to perfection. So that you, the contributors to this charity, and more especially those of you by whose immediate care and economy it is in so high repute, arc encouraged to go on with your labour of love* not only by the present good, which you see is here done, but likewise by the prospect of what will probably be done, by your means, in future times, when this infirmary shall become, as I hope it will, no less renowned than the city in which it is established. But to see how far it is from being yet complete, for want of contributions, one need only look upon tlie settled rules of the house for admission of patients. See there the limitations which necessity prescribes, as to • Heb. vl. 10. B2 260 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE the persons to be admitted. Read but that one order, though others might be mentioned, that none who are judged to he in an asthmatiCj consumptive, or dying condition, be admitted on any account whatsoever. Harsh as these words sound, they proceed out of the mouth of Charity herself. Charity pronounces it to be better, that poor creatures, who might receive much ease and rehef, should be denied it, if their case does not admit of recovery, rather than that others, whose case does admit of it, be left to perish. But it shocks humanity to hear such an alternative mentioned; and to think, that there should be a necessity, as there is at present, for such restrictions, in one of the most beneficent and best managed schemes in the world. May more numerous or larger contribu- tions, at length, open a door to such as these ; that what renders their case in the highest degree compassionable, their languishing under incurable diseases, may no longer exclude them from the house of mercy. But besides the persons to whom I have been now more particularly speaking, there are others, who do not cast about for excuses for not contributing to the relief of the necessitous ; perhaps are rather disposed to relieve them ; who yet are not so careful as they ought to be, to put themselves into a capacity of doing it. For wfe are as really accountable for not doing the good which we might have in our power to do, if we would manage our affairs with prudence, as we are for not doing the good which is in our power now at present. And hence arise the obligations of economy upon people in the highest, as well as in the lower stations of life, in order to enable themselves to do that good, which, without economy, both of them must be incapable of; even though without it they could answer the strict demands of justice ; which yet we find neither of them can. A good man sheweth favour, and lendeth; and, to enable himself to do so, he will guide his affairs with discretion.* For want of this, many a one has reduced his family to the necessity of asking relief from those public charities, to which he might have left them in a condition of largely contributing. As economy is the duty of all persons, without excep- * Psalm cxii. 5. • GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 261 tion, frugality and diligence are duties which particularly belong to the middle as well as lower ranks of men, and more particularly still to persons in trade and commerce, whatever their fortunes be. For trade and commerce cannot otherwise be carried on, but is plainly inconsistent with idleness and profusion: though indeed were it only from regard to propriety, and to avoid being absurd, every one should conform his behaviour to what his situation in life requires, without which the order of society must be broken in upon. And considering how inherited riches and a life of leisure are often employed, the generality of mankind have cause to be thankful that their station exempts them from so great temptations; that it engages them in a sober care of their expenses, and in a course of appli- cation to business: especially as these virtues, moreover, tend to give them, what is an excellent groundwork for all others, a stayed equality of temper and command of their passions. But when a man is diligent and frugal, in order to have it in his power to do good; when he is more industrious, or more sparing perhaps than his circumstances necessarily require, that he may have to give to him that needeth;* when he labours in order to support the weak;^ such care of his affairs is itself cha- rity, and the actual beneficence which it enables him to practise is additional charity. You will easily see why I insist thus upon these things, because I would particularly recommend the good work before us to all ranks of people in this great city. And I think I have reason to do so, from the considera- tion, that it very particularly belongs to them to promote it. The gospel indeed teaches us to look upon every one in distress as our neighbour, yet neighbourhood in the literal sense, and likewise several other circum- stances, are providential recommendations of such and such charities, and excitements to them; without which the necessitous would suffer much more than tlu y do at present. For our general disposition to beneficence would not be sufficiently directed, and in otlier respects would be very ineffectual, if it were not called forth into action » Ephrs. iv. 'JS. + Arts xx. 35. 262 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE by some or other of those providential circumstances, which form particular relations between the rich and the poor, and are of course regarded by every one in some degree. But though many persons among you, both in the way of contributions, and in other ways no less useful, have done even more than was to be expected, yet I must be allowed to say, that I do not think the relation the inhabitants of this city bear to the persons for whom our infirmary was principally designed, is sufficiently attended to by the generality ; which may be owing to its late establishment. It is, you know, de- signed principally for diseased manufacturers, seamen in merchant-service, and their ivives and children : and poor manufacturers comprehend all who are employed in any labour whatever belonging to trade and commerce. The description of these objects shows their relation, and a very near one it is, to you, my neighbours, the inhabi- tants of this city. If any of your domestic servants were disabled by sickness, there is none of you but would think himself bound to do somewhat for their reUef Now these seamen and manufacturers are employed in your immedrate business. They are servants of mer- chants, and other principal traders; as much your servants as if they lived under your roof: though by their not doing so, the relation is less in sight. And supposing they do not all depend upon traders of lower rank in exactly the same manner, yet many of them do ; and they have all connexions with you, which give them a claim to your charity preferably to strangers. They are indeed servants of the public; and so are all indus- trious poor people as well as they. But that does not hinder the latter from being more immediately yours. And as their being, servants to the public is a general recommendation of this charity to all other persons, so their being more immediately yours, is, surely, a par- ticular recommendation of it to you. Notwithstanding all this, I will .not take upon me to say, that every one of you is blamable who does not contribute to your infirmary, for yours it is in a peculiar sense; but 1 will say, that those of you who do are highly commendable*. I will say more, that you promote a / GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 203 very excellent work, which your particular station is a providential call upon you to promote. And there can be no stronger reason than this for doing any thing, except the one reason, that it would be criminal to omit it. These considerations, methinks, might induce every trader of higher rank in this city to become a subscriber to the infirmary which is named from it; and others of you to contribute somewhat yearly to it, in the way in which smaller contributions are given. This would be a most proper offering out of your increase to him, whose blessing maketh rich.* Let it be more or less, every man according as he purposeih in his heart; not grudgingly y or of necessity : for God loveth a cheerful giver. f The large benefactions of some persons of abilitv may be necessary in | the first establishment of a public charity, and are greatly useful afterwards in maintaining it: but the expenses of this before us, in the extent and degree of perfection to which one would hope it might be brought, cannot be effectually supported, any more than the expenses of civil government, without the contribution of great numbers. You have already the assistance of persons of highest rank and fortune, of which the list of our governors, and the present appear- ance, are illustrious examples. And their assistance would be far from lessening by a general contribution to it amongst yourselves. On the contrary, the general contribution to it amongst yourselves, which I have been proposing, would give it still higher repute, and more invite such persons to continue their assistance, and accept the honour of being in its direction. For the greatest persons receive honour from taking the direction of a good work, as they likewise give honour to it. And by these concurrent endeavours, our infirmary might at length be brought to answer, in some competent mea- sure, to the occasions of our city. Blessed are they who employ their riches in promoting so excellent a design. The temporal advant;\gcs of them are far from coming up, in enjoymrnt, to what they promise at a distance. But the distinguished * Prov. X. 82. + 2 Cor. ix. T. 264 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE privilege, the prerogative of riches, is, that they increase our power of doing good. This is their proper use. In proportion as men make this use of them, they imitate Ahnighty God; and co-operate together with him in promoting the happiness of the world; and may expect the most favourable judgment, which their case will admit of, at the last day, upon the general, repeated maxim of the gospel, that we shall then be treated ourselves as we now treat others. They have moreover the prayers of all good men, those of them particularly whom they have befriended; and, by such exercise of charity, they improve within themselves the temper of it, which is the very temper of heaven. Consider next the peculiar force with which this branch of charity, almsgiving, is recommended to us in these words; He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unip the Lord:* and in these of our Saviour, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it, relieved the sick and needy, unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me A Beware you do not explain away these passages of Scripture, under the notion, that they have been made to serve superstitious purposes: but ponder them fairly in your heart ; and you will feel them to be of irresistible weight. Lastly, let us remember, in how many instances we have all left undone those things which we ought to have done, and done those things which we ought not to have done. Now whoever has a serious sense of this will most earnestly desire to supply the good, which he was obliged to have done, but has not, and undo the evil which he has done, or neglected to prevent; and when that is impracticable, to make amends, in some other way, for his offences — I can mean only to our fellow creatures. To make amends, in some way or other, to a particular person, against whom we have offended, either by positive injury, or by neglect; is an express condition of our obtaining forgiveness of God, when it is in our power to make it. And when it is not, surely the next best thing is to make amends to society by fervent charity, in a course of doing good : which riches, as I observed, put very much within our power. * Prov. xix. 17. t Matt. xxv. 40. GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 265 How unhappy a choice then do those rich men make, who sacrifice all these high prerogatives of their state, to the wretched purposes of dissoluteness and vanity, or to the sordid itch of heaping up, to no purpose at all; whilst in the mean time they stand charged with the important trust, in which they are thus unfaithful, and of which a strict account remains to be given 1 A CHARGE DEUVERED TO THE CLERGY AT THE PRIMARY VISITATION OF THE DIOCESS OF DURHAM, IN THE YEAR MDCCLI * It is impossible for me, my brethren, upon our first meeting of this kind, to forbear lamenting with you the general decay of religion in this nation; which is now observed by every one, and has been for some time the complaint of all serious persons. The influence of it is more and more wearing out of the minds of men, even of those who do not pretend to enter into speculations upon the subject: but the number of those who do, and who profess themselves unbelievers, increases, and with their numbers their zeal. Zeal, it is natural to ask — for what.^^ Why truly for nothing, but against every thing that is good and sacred amongst us. Indeed, whatever efforts are made against our religion, no Christian can possibly despair of it. For he, who has all power in heaven and earth, has promised, that he will he with us to the end of the world. Nor can the present decline of it be any stumbling-block to such as are considerate; since he himself has so strongly expressed what is as remarkably predicted in other passages of Scripture, the great defection from his religion which should be in the latter days, by that prophetic question. When the Son of man comethj shall he find faith upon the * The publication of Bishop Butler's Charge, in the year 1751, was followed by a pamphlet, printed in 1752, entitled, <' A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance of External Religion, occasioned by some passages in the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Durham's Charge to the Clergy of that Diocess, &c., humbly address**] to his Lordship." This pamphlet has been reprinted in a miscellaneous work : such part-* of it as seemed most worthy of observation, the reader will find in the following note npon those passages of the Cliarge to which the pamphlet refers. CHARGE TO THE CLERGY OF DURHAM. 267 earth? How near this time is, God only knows; but this kind of Scripture signs of it is too apparent. For as different ages have been distinguished by different sorts of particular errors and vices, the deplorable dis- tinction of ours is an avowed scorn of religion in some, and a growing disregard to it in the generality. As to the professed enemies of religion, I know not how often they may come in your way ; but often enough, I fear, in the way of some at least amongst you, to require consideration, what is the proper behaviour towards them. One would, to be sure, avoid great familiarities with these persons; especially if they affect to be licentious and profane in their common talk. Yet if you fall into their company, treat them with the regards which belong to their rank; for so we must people who are vicious in any other respect. We should study what St James, with wonderful elegance and expressiveness, calls meekness of wisdom, in our behaviour towards all men; but more especially towards these men; not so much as being whai we owe to them, but to ourselves and our religion ; that we may adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour, in our carriage towards those who labour to vihfy it. For discourse with them; the caution commonly given, not to attempt answering objections which we have not considered, is certainly just. Nor need any one in a particular case be ashamed frankly to acknowledge his ignorance, provided it be not general. And though it were, to talk of what he is not acquainted with, is a dangerous method of endeavouring to conceal it. But a considerate person, however qualified he be to defend his rehgion, and answer the objections he hears made against it, may sometimes see cause to decline that oliice. Sceptical and profane men are extremely apt to bring up this subject at meetings of entertainment, and such as are of the freer sort: innocent ones I mean, otherwise I should not suppose you would be present at them. Now religion is by far too serious a matter to be the hackney subject upon these occasions. And by preventing its being made so, you will better secure the reverence which is due to it, than by entering i into its defence. 268 CHARGE TO THE Every one observes, that men's having examples of vice often before their eyes, famiharizes it to the mind, and has a tendency to take off that just abhorrence of it which the innocent at first felt, even though it should not alter their judgment of vice, or make them really believe it to be less evil or dangerous. In like manner, the hearing religion often disputed about in light familiar conversation, has a tendency to lessen that sacred regard to it, which a good man would endeavour always to keep up, both in himself and others. But this is not all: people are too apt inconsiderately to take for granted, that things are really questionable, because they hear them often disputed. This indeed is so far from being a consequence, that we know demonstrated truths have been disputed, and even matters of fact, the objects of our senses. But were it a consequence, were the evidence of religion no more than doubtful, then it ought not to be concluded false any more than true, nor denied any more than affirmed ; for suspense would be the reasonable state of mind with regard to it. And then it ought in all reason, considering its infinite importance, to have nearly the same influence upon practice, as if it were thoroughly believed. For would it not be madness for a man to forsake a safe road, and prefer to it one in which he acknowledges there is an even chance he should lose his life, though there were an even chance likewise of his getting safe through it ? Yet there are people absurd enough, to take the supposed doubtfulness of religion for the same thing as a proof of its falsehood, after they have concluded it doubtful from hearing it often called in question. This shows how infinitely unreasonable sceptical men are, with regard to religion, and that they really lay aside their reason upon this subject as much as the most extravagant enthusiasts. But further, cavilling and objecting upon any subject is much easier than clearing up difficulties: and this last part will always be put upon the defenders of religion. Now a man may be fully convinced of the truth of a matter, and upon the strongest reasons, and yet not be able to answer all the difficulties which may be raised apon it. CLERGY OF DURHAM. 269 Then again, the general evidence of religion is com- plex and various. It consists qi a long series of things, one preparatory to and confirming another, from the very beginning of the world to the present time. And it is easy to see how impossible it must be, in a cursory conversation, to unite all this into one argument, and represent it as it ought; and, could it be done, how utterly indisposed people would be to attend to it — I say in a cursory conversation: whereas unconnected objections are thrown out in a few words, and are easily apprehended, without more attention than is usual in common talk. So that, notwithstanding we have the best cause in the world, and though a man were very capable of defending it, yet I know not why he should be forward to undertake it upon so great a disadvantage, and to so little good effect, as it must be done amidst the gaiety and carelessness of common conversation. But then it will be necessary to be very particularly upon your guard, that you may not seenij by way of compliance, to join in with any levity of discourse respecting religion. Nor would one let any pretended argument against it pass entirely without notice; nor any gross ribaldry upon it, without expressing our thorough disapprobation. This last may sometimes be done by silence: for silence sometimes is very expressive; as was that of our blessed Saviour before the Sanhedrim and before Pilate. Or it may be done by observing mildly, that religion deserves another sort of treatment, or a more thorough consideration, than such a time, or such circumstances admit. However, as it is absohitely necessary, that we take care, by diligent reading and study, to be always prepared, to be readi/ always to give an answer to every man that askcth a reason of the hope that is in us; so there may be occasions when it will highly become us to do it. And then we must take care to do it in the spirit which the apostle requires, with meekness and fear:* meekness towards those who give occasions for entering into the defence of our religion ; and with fear, not of them, but of God ; with that reverential fear, which the nature of religion requirtf, • 1 PtU uw.ifl- I ^'^ CHARGE TO THE and which is so far from being inconsistent with, that it will inspire proper courage towards men. Now this reverential fear will lead us to insist strongly upon the infinite greatness of God's scheme of government, both in extent and duration, together with the wise connexion of its parts, and the impossibility of accounting fully for the several parts, without seeing the whole plan of Providence to which they relate; which is beyond the utmost stretch of our understanding. And to all this must be added the necessary deficiency of human language, when things divine are the subject of it. These observations are a proper full answer to many objections, and very material with regard to all. But your standing business, and Avhich requfres con- stant attention, is with the body of the people; to revive in them the spirit of religion, which is so much declining. And it may seem, that whatever reason there be for caution as to entering into an argumentative defence of religion in common conversation, yet that it is necessary to do this from the pulpit, in order to guard the people against being corrupted, however in some places. But then surely it should be done in a manner as little controversial as possible. For though such as are capable of seeing the force of objections "are capable also of seeing the force of the answers which are given to them ; yet the truth is, the people will not competently attend to either. But it is easy to see which they will attend to most. And to hear religion treated of as what many deny, and which has much said against it as well as for it; this cannot but have a tendency to give them ill impressions at any time; and seems paVticularly improper for all persons at a time of devotion ; even for such as are arrived at the most settled state of piety; I say at a time of devotion, when we are assembled to vield our- selves up to the full influence of the Divine Presence, and to call forth into actual exercise every pious affection of heart. For it is to be repeated, that the heart and course of affections may be disturbed when there is no alteration of judgment. Now the evidence of religion may be laid before men without any air of controversy. The proof of the being of God, from final causes, or the'desi^n CLERGY OF DURHAM. 271 and wisdom which appears in every part of nature ; to- gether with the law of virtue written upon our hearts the proof of Christianity from miracles, and the accomplish- ment of prophecies; and the confirmation which the natural and civil history of the world give to the Scripture account of things: these evidences of religion might properly be insisted on, in a way to affect and influence the heart, though there were no professed unbelievers in the world; and therefore may be insisted on, without taking much notice that there are such. And even their * The author of the Inquiry, mentioned above, informs us, in his postscript, that " the certain consequence of referring mankind to a laic of nature, or virtue, written upon their hearts, is their having recourse to their own sense of things on all occasions ; which being, in a great majority, no better than family superstition, party-prejudice, or self-interested artifice (perhaps a compound of all), will be too apt to overrule the plain precepts of the gospel." And he declares, he has " no better opinion of the clearness, certainty, uniformity, universality, &c., of this law, than" he has "of the importance of external religion."^ What then must we say to St Paul, who not only asserts, in the strongest terms, the reality of such a law, but speaks of its Obligation as extending to all mankind ? blaming some among the Gentiles as without excuse, for not adverting to and obeying it ; and commending others for doing by nature (in con- tradistinction to revelation) the things contained in the law, thus showing the work of the law written in their hearts. If, because " natural religion is liable to be mistaken, it is high time to have done with it in the pulpit;" how comes it that the same apostle refers the Philippians to the study of this religion, to whatsoever things are true, honest, just, lovely, and of good report ? And yet, without such a study, our knowledge of the moral law must always remain imperfect; for a complete system of morality is certainly no where to be found either in the Old or New Testament.f When a Christian minister is enforcing the duties or doctrines of revealed religion, he may perhaps do well to "tell his people he has no other proof of the original, truth, obli gations, present benefits and future rewards of religion, to lay before them, than what is contained in the Scriptures." But what if his purpose be to inculcate some moral virtue? Will it not be useful here, besides observing that the practice of tliat virtue is enjoined by a divine command, to recommend it still further to his hearers, by showing that it approves itself to our inward sense and perception, and accords with the native sentiments and suggestions of our minds? Metaphysicians may say what they will of our feelings of this sort being all illusive, liable to be perverted by education and habit, and judged of by men's own sense of things ; they, whose understandings are yet unspoiled by philosophy and vain deceit, will be little disposed to listen to such assertions. Nor are there wanting arguments whicii prove, and, as should seem, to the satisfaction of every reasonable inquirer, that the great and leading principles of moral duties have in all ages been the same ; that such virtu^^s as l)ene- volence, justice, compassion, gratitude, accidental obstacles removed, and wh» n the precise meaning of the words has been once explained, are instinctively known niui approved by all men; and that our approbation of these is as much n part of our nature implanted in us by God, and as iitllr liable to caprice and fashion, as the sense of seeing, given us also by him, by which all IxHlies appear to us in an rnrt, nml not an invertetl position.}: Mr Locke's authority has been generally l(H>k»il up to as decisive on such questions; and his sentiments have IxH'n embnwrti implicitly, and without examination. That gn at and good, and good evil ; putting darkness ftr light, and light for darkness ; putting bitter for tweet, and ticeei for bitter. } See the second of Dr BaUfU) '< Huvrgos. X 3»o tho third of nishop Hurd'i Scrmuus, toL L 272 CHARGE TO THE 4 particular objections may be obviated without a formal mention of them. Besides, as to religion in general, it is a practical thing, and no otherwise a matter of specu- lation, than common prudence in the managemxent of our worldly affairs is so. And if one were endeavouring to bring a plain man to be more careful with regard to this last, it would be thought a strange method of doing it, to perplex him with stating formally the several objections which men of gaiety or speculation have made against prudence, and the advantages which they pleasantly tell us folly has over it; though one could answer those objections ever so fully. Nor does the want of religion in the generality of the common people appear owing to a speculative disbelief or denial of it, but chiefly to thoughtlessness and the common temptations of life. Your chief business there- fore is to endeavour to beget a practical sense of it upon their hearts, as what they acknowledge their belief of, and profess they ought to conform themselves to. And this is to be done by keeping up, as we are able, the form and face of religion with decency and reverence, and in such a degree as to bring the thoughts of religion often to their minds;* and then endeavouring to make this form more and more subservient to promote the reality and power of it. The form of religion may indeed be where there is little of the thing- itself ; but the thing itself cannot be preserved amongst mankind without the form.t And this form frequently occurring * To this it is said by our inquirer, that " the clergy of the church of England have no way of keeping up the /orm and face of religion, any oftener, or in any other degree, than is directed by the prescribed order of the church." As if the whole duty of a parish priest consisted in reading prayers and a sermon on Sundays, and performing the occasional offices appointed in the liturgy ! One would think the writer who made this objection had never read more of the Charge than the four pages he has parti- cularly selected for the subject of his animadversions. Had he looked further, he would have found other methods recommended to the clergy, of introducing a sense of religion into the minds of their parishioners which occur much oftener than the times alloLted for the public services of the church: such as family prayers; acknowledging the divine bounty at our meals; personal applications from ministers of parishes to individuals under their care, on particular occasions and circumstances : as at the time of confirmation, at first receiving the holy communion, on recovery from sickness, and the like ; none of which are prescribed in our established ritual, any more than those others so ludicrously mentioned by this writer, "bowing to the east, turning the face to that quarter in repeating the creeds, dipping the finger in water, and therewith crossing the child's forehead in baptism." f The quakers reject all' forms, even the two of Christ's own institution: will it be said, that " these men liave no religion preserved among them?" It will neither CLERGY OF DURHAM. 273 in sorne instance or other of it will be a frequent admo- nition to bad men to repent, and to good men to grow better; and also be the means of their doing so.* That which men have accounted rehgion in the several countries of the world, generally speaking, has had a great and conspicuous part in all public appearances, and the face of it been kept up with great reverence throughout all ranks, from the highest to the lowest ; not only upon occasional solemnities, but also in the daily course of behaviour. In the heathen world, their superstition was the chief subject of statuary, sculpture, painting, and poetry. It mixed itself with business, civil forms, diversions, domestic entertainments, and every part of common life. The Mahometans are obliged to short devotions five times between morning and evening. In Roman Catholic countries, people cannot pass a day without having religion recalled to their thoughts, by some or other memorial of it; by some ceremony or public religious form occurring in their way:t besides be said nor insinuated. The quakcrs, though they have not the form, are careful to keep up the face of religion ; as appf ars not only from the custom of assembling themselves for the purposes of public worship on the Lord's day, but from their silent meetings on other days of the week. And that they are equally sensible of the importance of maintaining the influence of religion on their niiiids, is manifest from the practice of what they call xnnHird prayer^ in conformity to the din-ction of Scripiiire to ^oroy co«^'«wa//v ■ "which," snith Robert Barclay, "ciinnot be »uiil»'r- slood outward prayer, because it were impossible that nu n should be always upon tlieir kiipj's, expressing the words of prayer; whicii would hinder ihem frooi tin; t'XfrTcisp of those duties no less positively commanded." — Apology for the Quakers^ I'rop. xi. Of IVorship. * Here it has bern objected, that "the nvmher, variety ,Tind frequent iX'Cxirrevcv of forms in religion, are too apt to be C()n>;idrred by the generality as coinnnitatiuns for tlu ir vices, as something substituted in lieu of repentiince, as loails and encumhnuict s upon true Christian edification." This way of arguing against the use of a thing trora the abuse of it, instead of argtiing from the n itiire of the thing itself, is- tho niastHT sophism that pervades the whole perfonnance we are here exannning. W liat rfasonal)le nmn everdenieii, lliat tiie pomp of (uitward worship has been some timrs jnistnken for inward pieiy ? ih;it positive institutions, when rest^tl in as ends, instead of bring applied as nu-ans, are hurtful to the interests of true religion? Not Hishop Butler ci riainly, who blames the observances of tJu' papists on this account, souh- of tliem as being "in themselves wrong anil superstitious;'' aiul others, ns being ** niade hul)servient to the purposes of superstition, " and for this reason "alM»lisheti by our reformers." In the mean while, it will still be true, that bodily w»)rship is by no means to be discarded, as unusefnl in excilin^f spiritual devotion ; on the con- trary, that they niutualiy assist and strengthen each oLlu-r ; an«i that a men- mental intercourse with (lod, and a religious service purely intellectual, is altogetiier unsuital)le to such a creature as man, dnrinij his present state on earth, f " VV'liHt in the former periotl" (when speaking of tlu' heathen world) "wa.s called superstUinn, U-comes in this" (when speaking of Hojiian f"atlu>Iics) "religion, and religioi/s forms ; which the papists pretending to coi.nect with ( hnsiianity , Bn«l the Charge giv ing no hint that this is no iimre (lian a pretence, a plain nader nuist nenls take Uiis as spoken of Uie means and mtnionals of true reiigion, and will acconiingly 274 CHARGE TO THE tlieir frequent holydays, the short prayers they are daily called to, and the occasional devotion enjoined by con- fessors. By these means their superstition sinks deep into the minds of the people, and their religion also into the minds of such among them as are serious and well- disposed. Our reformers, considering that some of these observances were in themselves wrong and super- stitious, and others of them made subservient to the purposes of superstition, abolished them, reduced the form of religion to great simplicit}', and enjoined no more particular rules, nor left any thing more of what was external in rehoion, than was in a manner necessarv to preserve a sense of religion itself upon the minds of the people. But a great part of this is neglected by the generality amongst us; for instance, the service of the church, not only upon common days, but also upon saints' days; and several other things might be men- tioned. Thus they have no customary admonition, no public call to recollect the thoughts of God and religion from one Sunday to another. It was far otherwise under the law. These words,* says Moses to the children of Israel, ickich I command thee, shall he in thine heart: and thou shaJt teach them consider these as recommended to his practice and imitation." If a plain reader, at first view of the passage alluded to^ should inadvertentlv fall into sucii a mistake, he would find that mistake immediately corrected by the very next sentence that follows, where ti;e re ligion of the Roman Catholics, and their superstition, are distinguished from each o'J:er in express words. But the terms in question are used with the strictest propriety. The dr'sign of the bishop, in this part of his Charge, is to consider religion, not under the notion of its being true, but as it affects the senses and imaginations of the multitude. For so the paragraph begins: "That wl.ich men have accounted religion in the several coimtries of the world" (whether the religion be true or lalx' is beside his present argument), " gem-rally speaking, has had a great and conspicuous part in all public appearances." This position he illustrates by three examplf'S. the Heathen, the Mahometan, and the Roman Catholic religions. The two first of these, having Title or nothing of true religion belonging to them, may well enough be character'sed ujider the common name of supers'ition : the last contains a mixture of both ; which therefore the bishop, like a good writer, as well as a ju«t reasoner, is careful to distinguish. In Roman Catliolic countries, a man can hardly travel a mile without passing a crucifix erected on the road side: he may either stop to worship the image represented on the cross, or he may simply be reminded by it of liis own relation to Christ crucified; tlnis by one and tlie same outward sign, religion may be recalled to his thoughts," or snper>tition may take pf>«session of his mind. lu the celebration of the eucharist, the elements of bread and wijie are regarded by a papist as the very bl of Christ; to a protestant, they appear only as symbols and memorials of that boeparation, the prinriple of th^ Unity was in fart preserved inviolate among that people till the coming of Christ. When the Mosaic connitution had tlius attained its end, and mankind were n«itv prepr»r«-f| for th*» re^'eption of a f-eftrr ecrenani, the law expired of course : ti e | ;:rti lion wall titat had divided the Jew from tlie Gentile was taken down, and nil ; crmnt-ncr that th** *pn'j'7n. DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE. 303 on whose existence they depend, will necessarily remain likewise, even after it is supposed to be taken away: which shows that supposition to be impossible and contradictory. » » As to your observation at the end of your letter; that the argument I have insisted on, if it were obvious to every capacity, should have more frequently been used as a fundamental argument for a proof of the being of God: the true cause why it has been seldom urged, is, 1 think, this ; that the universal prevalency of Cartes's absurd notions (teaching that * matter is necessarily infinite and necessarily eternal, and ascribing all things to mere mechanic laws of motion, exclusive of final causes, and of all will and intelligence and divine Provi- dence from the government of the world) hath incredibly blinded the eyes of common reason, and prevented men from discerning him in whom they live, and move, and have their being. The like has happened in some other instances. How universally have men for many ages believed, that eternity is no duration at all, and infinity no amplitude! Something of the like kind has happened in the matter of transubstantiation, and, I think, in the scholastic notion of the Trinity, &c. I am, Sir, Your aflfectionate friend and servant. ^pril 8, 1713. * Puto implicare contradictionem, ut mundus [meaning the material world] sit Ciiitus. Cartes. Epist. 69. Partis prima. THE END. DATE DUE 1 DEMCO 38-297